Irish
by theIrishkid
Summary: Erin must survive the streets of New York after immigrating from Ireland. But she has one secret that she must hide from all her Manhattan friends and that arrogant leader of Brooklyn.
1. part 1

Stumbling down the gangplank I looked up at the city before me, soaking in each detail. New York was bustling with people scurrying around in different directions. The buildings were tall elegant, and the streets were grimy cobblestone.

The passengers around me shouldered luggage, knapsacks, and crying babies. All I had was the clothes on my back.

Once my feet touched the ground I let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't the best timing, seeing as I was penniless, homeless, and friendless, and my family had just died before me, but I couldn't help but feel relieved to finally be _here_.

I walked down the street already lost amongst the different people and shops pouring out everywhere.

I was suffocating from the crowdedness and squeezed past people until I was in a less populated area. I gagged walking past several sweat shops which released clouds of dark smoke.

I ran down faster until there was an empty street for me to walk down.

My stomach growled in hunger and I tried to pretend it hasn't been two day since I've eaten. Emphasize on the word _tried_.

I began to stroll thoughtfully down the street trying to stay inside the patches of sunlight.

I glanced down at my outfit: brown pants that came down to my knees held up by black suspenders, a white button up shirt that was slightly large on me, a light brown cabbie hat, and around my wrist was a length of thick string wrapped several times around, and a silver band which gleamed in the sun light. I had no shoes but thankfully the weather was still nice out and I didn't have to worry quite yet.

I dressed like most boys did back at home (with the exception of the string and silver band) except I wasn't a boy.

My father, as he was dying of some unknown illness, made me promise not to let anyone know I was a girl.

"_New York, isn't safe for a girl all by herself," he warned. _

My three older brothers all agreed.

Shane who was only a year older than me gave me his clothes. My white dress was left behind on the ship.

Torrence, the oldest, gave me the silver metallic band and the string. The string was found in the woods near our house, he claimed that it was from the fairy folk that lived there, and it was good luck. He always wore it and I felt tears in my eyes when he tied it around my right wrist. The silver band he had made for me to wear when we first got to America but he knew he wouldn't live that long.

Peter, who was twins with Shane, gave me his hat. It was a little big on me, but it was comforting to wear. I could still smell his scent on it.

My head swam with their faces on the ship. They were all pale, and clammy, their eyes were fighting to stay open, their breath came slow and heavy.

My steps slowed down and I finally stopped.

I realized that someone was following me.

I looked to the side and pretended to look at the building beside me while taking a sideways glance behind me.

Three boys were approaching me in an unfriendly manner.

I tried to remember what Torrence told me about fighting boys.

"_First thing you got to do is remain calm, don't let them see you're scared, that's what they want to see."_

I worked to stand straight, and continue walking as though I was at ease. The distance between us was shrinking and I could hear them getting closer. I fought my heart trying to stop it from hammering in my chest.

Their eyes were burning holes into my back. I was ready to bolt down the street but they reached me already. A hand caught my shoulder and violently twisted me around,

"Hey, you," snarled the middle boy. I looked up at him. He had dark brown hair that was cut really short. His face was dark and his brown eyes flashed at me as though I just insulted him.

The boy to his right had midnight black hair and bright green eyes. He didn't seem so interested in killing me but he also didn't look interested in stopping the middle boy from doing so.

The boy to the left had sandy colored hair and hazel eyes. They examined me carefully as though determining the best way to take me down.

I shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes?"

"You'se know you'se trespassin' on Brooklyn territory?"

The boy's shifted closer in a menacing way and I gulped.

"I didn't know," I replied quickly.

They looked thrown off by my accent.

The middle boy gave me a calculating look and his eyes narrowed.

"You'se a new immigrant?" he asked.

I nodded my head quickly. I could here his teeth grind together and the other boys took a step closer.

"We soak new comah's round dese pahts, know why, kid?"

"Why?" I asked weakly.

"Because you rats take up all da jobs an' us kids dat lived heah ah whole lives have ta live in da streets."

"But I don't have a job—" I began but he cut me off.

"You probably came ta get one. So we'se gonna soak ya!"

An image flashed in my head of them throwing a bucket of water in my face. But I knew that "soaking" must have been much worse because they were down right deadly right now.

The two boys flanking the middle one closed in on me but I darted out of reach.

"'Ey!" called the sandy haired boy.

They made another grab, and I easily sidestepped them.

"_You really can't hit, Erin,"_ I recalled Torrence's words while dodging grabs and blows.

"_I'm sorry."_

"_No, don't be. If you can't punch you've got to learn to dodge."_

"_Will you teach me?"_

"_Of course I'm going to teach you, no one can teach you better than me!" he grinned toothily at me and winked so that I giggled. "All right let's get started."_

While in mid-flash back I felt one blow connect with my left eye. I let out a startled gasp and looked up. My pause invited in more blows: one to my jaw and one to my stomach.

Immediately I remembered to keep moving, and I dodged the next fist.

I turned around and fled down the street, trying to create a distance between me and the boys.

"Get back heah so we'se can finish soakin' ya!" The brown haired boy screamed they followed close behind.

Adrenaline fueled me to keep running. I could here their feet slapping against the cobblestone in fast pursuit.

I looked forward hopefully for escape and saw a large red bridge.

I boosted my speed and darted across followed by the boys in hot pursuit.

Frantically, I ran faster, finding a swarm of people. Immediately, I ran into the crowd trying to blend in. I could hear them pushing people over looking around for me.

I turned a corner and made a dash toward the next corner when I heard someone call out.

"Hey, what's da rush?"

I turned around while running, which was my worst mistake. I ran straight into a brick wall and crumpled down next to it.

I saw stars for a bit, but shook it off.

"Geez, dat's gotta hoit," remarked the boy jokingly, walking up to me. "You'se okay?"

I heard a commotion nearby and recognized the voice of my pursuers.

"Ow, I've got to go, they'll get me," I said hurriedly, rubbing my head tenderly.

I looked up and saw the boy who made me run into the wall had a brown leather patch strapped across his eye. His sandy colored hair was coming out form under his brown cabbie hat and came down almost to his eye.

He wore a friendly smile as he bent down to examine my head.

"Ouch, looks like you'se got yerself inta' a scrap," he said looking at me sympathetically.

I nodded absentmindedly trying to stand.

I crumpled on the first attempt and on the second I had to use the wall to support myself.

"Do ya need a hand?" the kid asked.

"No," I said trying to wave him off. The voices grew louder and I knew they were coming for me.

"No," I moaned, realizing I was doomed.

The kid in the eye patch glanced behind him and then back at me.

"Is somebody tryin' ta getcha'?"

"Yeah," I said leaning against the wall while trying to move down the street.

"Do ya want some help?" he asked.

I looked up into his face trying to read his intentions. I looked deep into his confused eyes and saw true sympathy and concern. I knew I could trust this kid.

"If you don't mind," I mumbled.

His face broke out into a grin and he wrapped my arm over his neck, so I was leaning on him. He carried me down the street and turned the corner and carried me further until we reached a worn down building that had boys lounging outside of it. I looked above them and saw a sign with chipping green paint. It read _News Boys Lodging House_.

The boy carried me to the front of the building and pushed past boys to get me inside. Once the door shut behind us I let out a sigh of relief.

More boys filled the inside of the building, which was quite small. They spoke noisily and shoved each other around, completely unaware of my entrance.

"Heah," my rescuer said lightly dropping me on a worn out couch.

I looked up at him appreciatively.

"Thanks," I whispered.

"Who's dis?" called a voice behind me. I twisted around and saw a black haired boy smoking on a cigar stroll over. His question caught the attention of other boys who also noticed me and drew nearer.

"I'se dunno," the eye patch boy responded, "'E was runnin' from someone an' I'se wanted ta help him a littul."

"Blink, ye break me heart when I'se hea'in' how kind you ah!" the smoking boy joked.

The boy Blink punched the other boy playfully.

"Shaddap! 'E was havin' a hawd time. An' actually it was my fault, sorta. I cawlled ta him an' he ran inta' a wall."

Some of the eavesdroppers snickered, giving me smirks. I blushed and rubbed my throbbing head, much to their amusement.

"So what's yer name?" the boys asked putting the cigar to his lips.

"Erin Collins," I said before thinking. Then I remembered Erin could also be a boy name so I was safe.

The boy looked over me carefully.

"What's yer trade, den?"

I shrugged, "I'm actually on the streets right now. I'm still looking for work."

Everyone looked a bit surprised by my accent, and I remembered what happened last time I got looks like that.

I stood up weakly with my hand still on my head.

"Actually, I should probably go now, thanks anyways," I made an attempt to walk to the door, but instead I stumbled there, getting another chorus of snickers.

"'Ey, you'se in no condition ta walk yet," the eye patch kid said. "By da way, me name's Kid Blink, though most cawl me Blink. An' dis is Racetrack, but most cawl him Race."

Racetrack removed his cigar from his lips to take a low bow.

"At your soivice!" he said playfully.

"I really can't stay," I said hesitantly.

"Why not?" Blink asked, sounding hurt.

"Because . . . because . . . I—" I didn't want to say I was scared they were going to "soak me" but I couldn't think of something else to say.

"You need woik, right?' Racetrack asked, interrupting my train of thought.

"Yes," I answered.

"Den have you eva' considered bein' a newsie?"

"A what?" I asked, confused. That was English right?

"A newsie. Ya know, like sellin' papes?"

I shook my head, "what's a 'pape'?"

The boys stared at me with their jaws dropped.

"Whaddaya mean 'what's a pape'?!" Racetrack asked horrified. "Do ya live in New York or not?"

I gulped and felt nervous.

"Um, actually, I'm not from here," I admitted painfully.

Racetrack cocked him head in confusion, then his eyes widened in understanding.

"Immigrant?"

I nodded fearfully.

"Aw, don't be schaihd, lot's a' newsies isn't from around heah," he said sympathetically.

"You never told me what a newsie is or a pape," I reminded.

"Oh, right," he said grinning, "well a pape is the paper, we'se just cawl it a pape, an' a newsie sells dem. Dat's us," he explained pointing to his chest.

I nodded my understanding.

"So I could sell papers with you?"

"Shuah!" he exclaimed smiling brightly.

I thought about it for a while. I've never sold anything before. Back in Ireland I worked on the farm and helped Mama with housework. But I needed the money.

"Okay, I'll do it," I agreed.

Blink patted my back warmly, "Great!" he cheered, "let's get ya registered!"

"Registered?" I asked nervously.

"Don't worry, we'se jus' gotta tell old man Kloppman dat you'se gonna be stayin' heah, you ain't got a home, right?"

I nodded my head shamefully.

"Don't be embarrassed, dat's why we'se awl aw heah," Blink said kindly.

We approached an old oak desk where an old man with a bowler hat sat reading a large book.

"'Ey, Kloppman!" Blink called causing the man to glance up annoyed at Blink and me.

"Blink, I'm not deaf yet, ya don't have to yell in my ear!" the man spat back with a lot more energy then I expected. "What do you want?" he demanded setting his book aside.

Blink took a step behind me grasping both my upper arms and resting his chin on my shoulder.

I hoped he couldn't hear my heart beat faster by this contact.

"Dis is a new guy, an' we'se was wonderin' if he could stay wid us?" Blink said in a pathetic voice.

"Blink, I wasn't born yesterday, I know all your tricks, so cut the act. Now let me see here . . ." Kloppman proceeded to take out a large file and look through it meticulously with a wrinkly finger. "Well, we're all out of bunks but if he was willing to share with one of the boys it's all right with me," Kloppman said finally.

I froze for a moment. I had to sleep with boys? My initial thought was _absolutely no_!

"He can share wid me!" Blink piped up, he looked down at me to see if I was okay with that. His smile was so bright and innocent. It was a face I just couldn't say no to.

"All right," I agreed uncomfortably. It wasn't like he knew I was a girl. It would be like two friends, it is fine.

Kloppman asked for my name and wrote it down in his file. He then wished me good luck with the boys.

"Lord knows I can barely handle them, so good luck to you," he said before picking up his book again. Blink led me upstairs to see the bunks.

We passed the bathroom which was a chaotic mess and then entered the even more disorganized bunk room. Blink led me to his bunk and sat down on it beckoning me to join him.

"So how do you like it?" he asked with a bright smile.

"It's nice," I replied, "very homey."

And it was. Despite the fact that everything was a mess it had a relaxed air to it that made you feel at ease.

"Well, why don't we'se introduce ya to da udda boys!" he said standing up excitedly.

"All right," I agreed.

We walked back down stairs and discovered more boys had come inside. It was getting late, so it wasn't too surprising.

"Blink, who's the shina'?" asked a tall boy wearing a red scarf around his neck and a black hat was on his head.

"Dis is Erin Collins," Blink introduced casually, "Erin, dis is Jack Kelly uddawise known as Cowboy!"

"Nice ta meet ya!" he said sincerely with sweet smile.

"Cowboy is da leada' of us newsies, but only in Manhattan, y'see dere's newsies in every city, an' each city has a different newsie leada'," Blink explained patiently.

I nodded and he introduced me to more people.

I met Skittery, Boots, Snipeshooter, Bumlets, Pie Eater, Mush, Specs, Tiger, and Hands. The latter two were younger looking and seemed out of place surrounded by these older boys but they proved to have fierce strength from living on the streets. Everyone's name seemed odd to me and when I told Blink this he laughed.

"Well a'course dey sound funny, dey're _nicknames_, y'know so da bulls don't know your real name if ya get in a fix," he explained.

My eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What? Don't kids eva' get inta trouble where you'se from?" he asked. The other boys watched me carefully.

Finally I looked up at the lot.

"What's 'the bulls'?" I asked cautiously.

They all burst out into laughter. Racetrack clutched his sides and laughed so hard his cigar fell out of his mouth. Jack was fighting a smile and everyone else was simply falling over with laughter.

Finally, once Blink was back together he looked at me apologetically, "Da bulls are da police," he explained, still chuckling.

I blushed, embarrassed by my limited knowledge. I made a mental note to remember all the terms they had taught me.

Blink threw a friendly arm over my shoulder. "Isn't he great Jack?"

Jack beamed down at me, "Yeah, I'm glad you found him, Blink," he said, winking at me.

Soon the boys decided it was getting late and it was time to go to bed. I followed everyone upstairs talking with the boys.

They were all friendly and made me feel like I was part of the family.

Once we got upstairs I followed Blink to his bed. The boys began to strip their shirts and pants off. I pretended to not care and looked away.

Blink removed his shirt and looked down at me confused.

"You plannin' on sleepin' in your clothes?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yeah," I replied fighting my blush.

He shrugged and crawled up onto his bed, which was the top bunk. I followed him up.

It was uncomfortable sharing with him. I've always had a bed to myself except when I was young and had nightmares, and I shared with my brothers.

I sat next to him, mentally thanking God that the bed was wide enough for both of us. He generously shared the thin worn out blanket and fell back onto his pillow.

I was curious as to why he didn't remove his eye patch. I felt rude asking but curiosity got the better of me.

"Are you going to take off your eye patch?" I asked. He didn't look offended or hurt at all. He simply grinned up at me.

"Y'know why I wear it?" he asked slyly.

I felt my stomach do a flip, "Um, sure?"

He flicked it up lazily revealing two purple eyelids half closed over a thin black slit. I could tell there was nothing under the eye lids, just a dark hollowed out hole.

I gasped, to his amusement.

"What happened?!"

"It was an accident at a factory, someone was unscrewin' a bolt an' it flew right inta me eye. Luckily dere was someone dere dat woiked in da hospital an' he knew how to remove eyes. 'E said if it didn't come out it would get infected and make me sick an' die," he stated calmly, almost proudly. I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"That's pretty amazing!" I complimented, "you're very brave!"

"Aw, it was nothing," he shrugged, "an' actually between you an' me . . ."  
his voice dropped down to a whisper. "I cried like a baby da entire time dey was takin' me eye out. Hoit like hell, it did," he said this with a weak smile.

"I won't tell a soul," I promised.

He smiled warmly at me.

"G'night, Erin!"

"Good night," I could tell he fell asleep once I heard the light snores. I stayed awake a bit longer praying for a better tomorrow.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

In the morning I woke before anyone else. My body was used to waking up early because on the farm nobody wanted to be in the fields in the middle of the day when the sun burned the brightest. I thought I should get up but was too tired so I just lay in bed silently. I looked over at Blink. His face was still peaceful from sleeping. His hair had been moved to in front of his face so I brushed it away.

My ears twitched at the sound of approaching footsteps from the stair case. I sat up quickly to see who was coming. Kloppman entered the room quietly. His eyes met mine and he raised a finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet.

He slinked to the foot of Skittery's bed where Skittery's leg was dangling off the edge. Then to my surprise, Kloppman slapped his foot.

"Skittery! Wake up!"

Skittery bolted up and immediately blurted out, "I didn't do it!"

Kloppman rolled his eyes and passed me a quick wink before moving on to the next bunk.

"Wake up! Wake up! Carry the banner!"

Boys grouchily rose form their beds, including Blink. He stretched out and looked up at me.

"Sleep good?"

"Yeah," I answered, "thanks for sharing with me."

"Anytime," he shrugged.

I decided to climb down now to wash up. But I forgot we were on the top bunk. My fall was broken by the still half asleep Racetrack who was emerging from his bed which was right next to Blink's, on the bottom.

"'Ey! Stupid! Watch weah ya fall!" he snapped.

I scrambled up quickly.

"Sorry Race!" I said quickly.

His tired eyes glanced at me suspiciously as if making sure I didn't fall on him on purpose.

"Yeah, you should be," he mumbled, walking off the bathroom while putting on suspenders.

Blink looked down at me as if trying to hold back a laugh.

"You'se okay?" he half asked half laughed.

"Yeah, Yeah," I mumbled.

I followed Race to the bathroom and washed my face and teeth. I then went to the water closet and took off my hat. Short, shaggy, reddish brown hair came down to my jaw. Before dying, Papa cut of my long locks to further hide my identity. I still kept it tucked under my hat just in case. Once finished I walked back out and stretched.

"Ready ta sell?" Blink asked once he was ready.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Let's move it out, boys!" Jack called. Everyone ran out, their feet loudly banging down the stairs.

Kloppman waited at the bottom to make sure everyone was leaving.

I caught him giving me a wave and I waved back right before being pushed with the rest out the door. Blink led me to what was called the distribution center.

"Dis wheah we get papes," he explained.

He brought me up to the barred window. Inside was a large graying man, with tired eyes.

"What can I do fer you Blink and . . . Blink's friend?"

"Sixty papes!" Blink announced slapping coins on the counter. The man's large hand grabbed the coins.

"Sixty papes," he repeated over his shoulder. And a tall dark haired man wearing a bowler hat threw a stack of papers down. Blink picked it up and led me away from the window.

"Heah," he said handing me ten papers, "let's stawt you out wid ten, an see how you woik."

I took the papers delicately and looked over the headlines.

"It's a penny a pape," he informed me.

People began to walk by and Blink looked up pleased. "Follow me," he advised approaching a gaggle of women carrying baskets of food, laundry, knitting, and more.

"Man found dead in his room! You could be next! Find out how ta protect yerself!" The women peered at Blink fearfully and thrusted money at him for papers. Smiling kindly he handed them each a paper, with a tip of his hat.

I saw some young gentlemen walking down the street and walked in their general direction.

"Um, counterfeit money discovered! Suspects in court for trial!" I tried to be as loud as

Blink. The men gave me a curious glance and I continued to shout. "Biggest trial of the year in New York!"

The men finally came over and each handed me a penny. I pocketed the money and handed them papers.

"Thanks, boy," said one of the men then they quickly walked away flipping open their papers.

I then sold to a young boy outside of a grocery store followed by two young women sitting on the porch right outside an old house. My last few were sold to a group of men exiting a bank. I proudly showed my money to Blink.

"Great job, Erin!" he exclaimed, slapping a hand on my back.

"Thanks," I grinned proudly.

"How should we celebrate?" he asked.

My stomach answered before I could. I felt my face heat up.

"Sorry," I apologized, "it's been a while since I've eaten."

"Hey, we'se awl know what it's like ta stawve. Come on, I'll buy ya a meal."

"No!" I insisted, I can buy my own. I was reminded of my father's philosophy: _There's no such thing a free lunch._

"Hey, it's on me," he assured. He was already leading me down the street to a restaurant. We walked into a place called "Tibby's" which was already fairly crowded by newsies. Jack was loudly talking at one table surrounded by many newsies.

Apparently he said something funny because everyone broke out into laughter. Jack looked up and our eyes met.

"Heyya Erin! Come sit ova' heah!" he beckoned.

I walked over with Blink and sat beside him.

"How was the first day?" he asked warmly.

I shrugged, "not too bad."

He smiled crookedly at me. "Good, so you're ready fo' tomorrow?"

I felt my face drop and apparently I looked funny because everyone at the table laughed.

"I'se kiddin'," Jack explained laughing.

"Oh, right," I forced a smile. Blink asked what I wanted to eat.

"Um . . ." I thought for a moment. "What do people eat in America?" I asked weakly.

Blink burst out into laughter as did the rest of the boys. Now I was getting frustrated.

"Why does everyone laugh at me?" I asked pathetically.

Jack and Blink gave me sympathetic looks.

"It's not your fault," Blink explained, "it's just we'se not used to people not knowing so much, you're like a little kid," he laughed.

I blushed and looked down.

"A little kid?" I repeated stupidly.

"No! You don't get it, you're just so innocent!" Jack chuckled throwing a friendly arm over my shoulder.

I smiled a little.

"Heah's a menu," Blink offered kindly.

I looked it over and ordered a small roll.

"Dat's awl? Just a roll?"

I raised my eye brows in confusion.

"Isn't that a lot?" I asked. That's been what I ate for dinner for the past few months (before coming to America).

"No," Jack said sternly, poking at my ribs.

"Gawd your skinny, heah, let me order fo' you," he turned to the waiter. "Get dis boy a roast beef sandwich with everything and a side of pickles an' an a glass o' root beah."

"No, Jack, I could eat that much!" I cried grabbing his arm.

He just laughed and shook me off.

"No really, you need the weight!"

A platter of food was dropped in front of me and eyes watched me carefully.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I will not eat all of that."

"We'll force feed ya," Blink threatened.

I gave him a startled look and he laughed.

"Just eat what ya can and we'll finish the rest," Jack assured. I gave him a thankful look and began to pick at the sandwich. They looked satisfied once I consumed half of it and stated I was full.

"Boy, you shuah don't eat a lot," Racetrack said, leaning over the table to see my left overs.

I shrugged. "You can take them," I offered.

Needing no second words the boys dug in wolfishly.

I laughed watching them.

"'Ey, we actually eat, kid, so shut yer trap," Race snapped his mouth full of roast beef.

It made me laugh harder so he stuck to glaring at me while chewing.

I realized that hanging out with these boys was really heart warming. They were my family, and I had just met them yesterday.

I wanted to tell them this thought but something told me boys didn't sit in a circle sharing their feelings.

Suddenly, a frightening crash came from behind us. Everyone turned to see a tall boy walk in.

I recognized him instantly.

It was one of the boys trying to get me yesterday: the black haired one with green eyes.

He caught my stare and returned it with a curious look, yet it wasn't hostile.

He quickly strode over to Jack. Jack's face immediately hardened.

"What do ya want Doc?" he asked in a serious tone.

The boy called Doc cocked his head side ways and gave Jack a hard look.

"You can't take a guess?" he sneered.

Jack sighed.

"I'se guessin' ol' Spot wants ta meet wid me?"

Doc smirked, "No, Jack," he said mockingly, "Spot would actually prefoi' ta speak wid one ah your new newsies," he said giving me a quick glance. Everyone looked at me then back at Doc.

Jack kept his eyes on Doc.

"An' why's dat?" he asked in a protective tone.

Doc's smirk darkened.

"Tsk. Tsk, Jack, you'se wouldn't be questioning Spot's motives now, would you?"

Jack's face paled and he grimaced. Turning to me he whispered in my ear.

"What did you do?"

"I'm not sure. I was walking around after leaving my ship and this boy and two others chased me," I explained.

Jack sighed and rubbed his forehead agitatedly.

"Well, now we'se in a fix," he finally muttered. "I'se gonna take you ta Spot," he said, but Doc interrupted.

"No you aw not, _Jack_," he said spitting out Jack's name, "I'se gonna escort him myself, Spot's orders," he said grasping my wrist viciously, yanking me out of my seat.

I tried to twist to see Jack.

"Keep walkin', don't look back," Doc said sternly, as if he could read my mind.

Grimacing I trudged after him, being led by my arm.

The door to the restaurant slammed behind me leaving me feel completely alone.

The boy, who I assumed was called Doc glanced at me curiously but would narrow his eyes if I returned the look.

"Listen, um, Doc, what ever I did, I'm really sorry."

I could see his lip curl a bit and he looked me full in the face.

"Listen, kid, in New Yoik dere's rules an' one a da rules is neva' trespass on different territories unless you'se got cash or you'se wanna good soakin'."

I remained silent as he waited for a response.

"Did I scahe ya?" he asked hopefully.

I gave him a serious look before responding.

"What does 'soaking' mean?"

Doc looked at me shocked and then looked straight ahead.

He fought a smile but eventually gave up and quietly chuckled.

I groaned in frustration.

"You'se don't know what soakin' is?" he asked amazed.

I rolled my eyes. "Immigrant," I reminded.

"Right," he nodded, pulling my arm less hard. "Soakin' means ta beat da livin' day light outta ya."

"Oh," was all I could manage.

He chuckled more. "Fo' your sake I'se hope Spot's gonna go easy on ya, kid."

"I'm not a kid," I replied indignantly.

He smirked and gave me look.

"Whateva'," he replied rolling his shoulders.

We had crossed over the red bridge and he began to tow me down a street leading to the docks.

"Is Spot a newsie leader?" I asked cautiously.

"Took ya dat long ta figure out?" he asked in mock surprise.

"Sorry," I shrugged.

Shaking his head in disbelief he dragged me down to the docks right across the creaking wooden boards. Boys along the edge watched me with smirks.

Ignoring them, I focused my eyes on Doc's back.

"Ya lost, littul boy?" some called. I threw a dirty look behind me and continue walking.

We came to the end of the dock which was loaded with crates. I looked around uneasily for the leader.

"Doc, I'se see you'se brought me da little urchin dat trespassed."

I looked up to the direction of the voice and saw a boy. He was on the short side, slightly tan, with dirty blonde hair coming out from under his grey cabbie hat. He wore an old, blue, checkered shirt which was unbuttoned half way down, with bright red suspenders on top. Inside a belt loop on his brown pants was a long sleek cane. It was black except for the top which was a golden knob.

I looked into the boy's face and was shocked that his blue eyes were shooting a menacing glance at me. The icy color magnified his emotions. I took a hesitant step back and bit my lip.

Smirking, the boy lithely jumped from his perch and landed right in front of me.

"Got a name, kid?" he asked while nonchalantly pulling out a sling shot and small marbles.

"Erin," I said uneasily, trying to avoid his cold glance.

"Erin," he repeated to himself, turning around and gazing up at the blue sky. Then he turned back to face me. "So _Erin_, tell me, what made you think you'se could cross ova' Brooklyn an' live?"

I glared up at him and made fists at my sides. This didn't miss his notice.

"Ah," he smirked, "ya wanna fight?" he pulled the slingshot back and released it so that a marble sailed past my ear hitting a glass bottle behind me.

"Maybe," I suggested without thinking. His smirk grew ten times larger.

"Yeah, well I'se not a man ta mess wid," He said his eyes daring me to contradict him.

"Well, I don't wan to mess with you. You're the one that had me dragged over in the first place," I pointed out irritably.

His eyes narrowed and he slipped out his cane. I took a hesitant step back, eying the likely weapon.

"Don't worry, I'se won't use my cane if I'se gonna hoit ya."

"Oh," I responded sullenly.

"You'se clearly an immigrant," he said, recognizing my unusual accent.

"So?" I challenged.

His eyes narrowed considerably and he began to twirl his cane.

"So, you'se got some rules ta loin, if ya wanna live in New Yoik."

I stared expectantly, and his smirk became a superior gaze. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms.

"Foistly, no one, an' I'se mean _no one_, ever trespasses on Brooklyn territory. Anyone who violates rule one gets soaked."

I drew back, but was shoved forward by Spot's cronies.

"Is rule numba' one cleah?" he asked mockingly.

I nodded stiffly and he went on.

"Rule numbah two, everyone obeys my ordahs. You disobeh me you get a poisanal soakin'," he explained with taunting eyes. Then grinning he continued, "an' rule numbah t'ree: trust no one."

I raised an eye brown in confusion. "Then I can't trust you?"

"Nope."

"So how do I know you're really going to execute your rules."

"Well," he said, strolling closer, "if you'se wanna risk your own life ta see how reliable I'se am den go ahead. Break a rule. But it's youh neck." His eyes were daring me to do something out of line, Tantalizing me with unspoken comments.

My fists were clenched so hard my knuckles turned white. Unthinkingly, and rather stupidly, I raised my fist and made an effort to smash his face as hard as I could. Suddenly the air whistled near my ear and I was on the ground. I stood up clumsily, feeling throbbing pain in my right eye.

"Nice shinah," he commented coldly.

"I'll show you a shinah," I snapped trying to shake off the dizzy feeling. I stood and dodged another blow barely missing it. I began to follow Torrence instructions for avoiding fists.

I watched Spot's eyes to see what his emotions were and where he was planning on hitting. He was really good. His face was full of determination and any anger he had was hidden. I quickly followed his eye's focus to see which way to spring to. To onlookers we might have been dancing. His fists flew wildly at me, as well as his legs, and I smoothly twirled around the flailing limbs, smiling to myself. I could see in his face the understanding that this was getting him nowhere. Another right hook came halfheartedly towards me. I twisted away taking as step back. His eyes lit up but then were filled with determination again. He began taking steps while throwing fists. I dodged and stepped back as he did this.

I noticed that we were moving farther away from his newsies who watched intently. Then a horrifying realization dawned upon me. He was herding me to the edge of the dock. I turned around for a second and saw the crashing cold water hit the wooden beams supporting us.

I saw triumph light up in his face as he saw more horrified expression.

"Wait!" I cried. But it was too late, a fist connected with my right shoulder and I was flying into the water. The moment my skin touched it I yelped. It was icy cold.

I let out a gasp and swallowed a mouthful of sea water. I was choking.

My arms flailed to keep me above surface, but it was to no avail. I was sinking.

"Dat'll teach ya ta mess wid da king a Brooklyn!" I could hear Spot declare from far away.

I could hear more voices but it didn't matter anymore. I was going to die. Spot Conlon had killed me.

I ended my struggle and began to sink lower into a dark abyss.

"_Erin, I told you to stay away from the creek," Papa scolded as I sat shivering in his dry shirt._

"_I-I-I'm s-s-sorry. I just wanted to be like Sh-Shane, and P-Peter, and T-Torrence," I shuddered, "I never want to swim again, never, ever, ever!"_

_He looked at me concerned._

"_You can swim you just need to learn from your brothers."_

"_NO!" I screamed, "I never want to go into water again!"_

"_Okay!" he said loudly, trying to calm me down._

"_Never again." _

I choked out sea water feeling a terrible wave of vertigo hit me. I groggily shook my head.

My vision came into focus and I saw a pair of bright green eyes peering down at me.

"'E's alive, Spot!" Doc called over his shoulder, giving me another cautious glance. I shoved him off of me and sat up. I was on the docks again with a circle of boys around me.

I saw my cap lay soggy besides me. After wringing it out I slapped it on my head and shakily stood up. Spot watched with an amused and concerned expression on his face.

"I can't swim," I snapped angrily.

His eyes raised in mock surprise.

"Really? I had no idea! Which part do ya think tipped me off, da drowing o' you'se tellin' me?"

"Spot Colon, I have one thing to say to you!" I then picked several words from Torrence's colorful vocabulary and used it to describe Spot, in his face. Of course it was all in Irish.

He watched amused until I was done. Then, in the same language as me, he called me a few other words. _"I can put you back in the water,"_ he sneered in Irish.

I was taken aback by his knowledge of the language but was too angry to care.

"Good bye, Conlon," I hissed through my teeth. I quickly twirled around and marched off his docks getting curious looks from his newsies.

"I'll be seeing you soon, Erin. You can count on that," he sneered.

I crossed back over the red bridge to Manhattan and came back to the lodge house. It was already getting late.

I shyly opened the door, peering in before entering. I ducked right in time, as a shoe sailed over my head.

"Dat's fer cheatin', you liar!" yelled a familiar voice.

I smiled turning to face Skittery. Who stood wearing one shoe, glaring down at the smug Racetrack, whose back was to me. Skittery noticed me and his anger left his face.

"Erin? You're back!" he cried, causing Racetrack to laugh.

"Do I look dat stupid? Erin ain't comin' back now."

I coughed into my fist, grinning at Skittery.

Racetrack turned around in surprise. "Erin!" he yelled tackling me.

"Um, ow," I managed out of breath.

"Aw you a ghost?" he asked, his eyes scanning over me.

"Do I look dead to you?" I asked sarcastically.

He grinned ear to ear. "Maybe."

Skittery socked him in the arm and extended his hand to me. I grabbed it and pulled myself up with his help.

"Thanks, Skitts."

"Shuah," he said, "Race, go get my shoe."

"Get your own shoe, ya bum," Race snapped rubbing his arm tenderly.

"Okay, Who's shoe is dis?" came a voice form the door. Cowboy stepped in with a brown shoe in hand, and confusion plain on his face.

"Mine!" Skittery replied, snatching it from Cowboys grasp.

"Skittery, what aw ya—" he didn't finish his sentence because right then he turned to me with his jaw dropped.

"Erin? You're alive?!" his arms stretched open to show his surprise.

I glanced down at me as if to double check if I was real.

"It would seem I am, yes."

Jack grinned and picked me up into a hug. I buried my face into his chest to hide my blush. Torrence would kill Jack for this. He never even let boys look at me let alone, touch me.

Once he put me down his face became serious.

"So what did Spot want?"

"He just wanted to tell me 'Da rules'," I explained, imitating his accent horribly.

Jack cracked a grin. "Yeah, I'se wouldn't put it past him."

"He's an arrogant one, isn't he?" I commented. Jack's face grew grim.

"Listen, we'se don't talk bad 'bout Spot heah. He's a respectable newsie, an' should be treated as such."

"Respectable?!" I asked angrily, "he nearly killed me!"

"I neva' said 'e was nice. Just respectable,"

I shrugged, seeing Jack wasn't going to back down on this one. "Okay, Jack, fine."

I was about to walk out the door when I Blink walked in. His sad eye came up and met mine. Instantly a grin and pinned onto his face.

"Erin! Youh alive!"

"Yeah—" I began but he tackled my to the floor before I could finish.

"Uh, hello?" I gasped underneath his weight.

"I'se thought dey'd killed ya!" he yelled, getting an annoyed glance from Kloppman.

"Me? I'm indestructible, mate. I don't die." I grinned.

He slapped me on the back while helping stand up.

"Well, I'se sure am glad Conlon was in a good mood taday!"

"Who said he was in a good mood?" I asked quickly.

"Well you're alive, dat can only mean he didn't feel like fightin'," Blink explained.

"I did fight him," I interjected.

"Really!?" Blink's eye brow rose, and the other boys gathered curiously.

"How do you think I got this?" I asked pointed to my swollen eye. "We fought and then he pushed me into the water—"

"Dat explains da wet clothes," commented Mush.

"'Ey, let him finish," hushed Race quickly.

"So I stared to drown," I continued, "so Doc came and saved me. And then Spot and I argued for a bit and I left."

"Just like dat?" whispered Race.

"Sure," I shrugged. Everyone gaped at me in awe. "Um, guys, it really wasn't a big deal."

"'It really not a big deal' he says afta' fightin' wid _the_ Spot Conlon!" Blink whispered playfully into Mush's ear.

"Listen, I'm beat—"

"Literally," Race whispered, interrupting me. I threw him a glare and everyone quieted down.

"So I'm going to bed early." I turned and walked up the stairs. I was still wet so I found a spare outfit in a drawer full of moth balls. I pulled that on in the water closet and took my wet things out onto the fire escape, laying them out to dry. I looked up at the darkened sky. Horse drawn carriages passed every once and a while, and a rat might be heard skittering across the street, but other than that it was silent.

I brushed my shaggy hair out of my face angrily.

"Stupid Conlon," I snarled quietly, before setting off to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:


	2. part 2

I could feel everyone's concerned eyes follow me as I picked up papers from the distribution center. The previous day with Brooklyn's leader had put me a bad mood.

I only bought fifteen papers because I couldn't sell for the life of me.

I casually began to flip through the pages looking for a catchy headline. I heard one of the boys break away from the rest of the group and approach me.

"Hey," kid Blink called over my shoulder, "you'se okay?"

"Yes," I replied nodding my head, not even looking back. I could hear him sigh.

"Listen, if dere's anyt'in' you'se wanna say, you can always tell me, kay?"

I turned around and looked into his hazel eye. It reflected his concern and made me feel guilty.

"Sure." I answered, cracking a smile.

I felt heavy guilt from lying to my newest friend. After all, he had saved me and shared everything with me, and here I was deceiving him. But I made a promise to Papa, and it could never be broken.

I lifted my stack of papers and began to sell. After selling five, business slowed down fast. I didn't have the volume or lying skills the rest of the group seemed to share. My frustration grew to be too much. I angrily paced the cobblestone streets looking for a passerbyer that I could swoop down on and forcefully sell my paper to.

A boy turned the corner and began walking my way. I pulled on a warm smile and walked up to the lad.

"Excuse me," I called. He faced me with a peculiar expression on.

"Yeah, what?" he asked, not harshly but not welcomingly either.

"Do want to buy a paper?" I asked holding one out. "It's a special edition covering a murder."

He fingered his chin thoughtfully while looking down at me.

"Hm, youh new ain't you?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's your point?" I asked, offended.

"Nuttin', I'se jus' good at tellin' weddah or not a newsie's new ta da job or not." He shrugged his shoulders, while his eyes shifted to my stack of papers.

"You still have a long ways ta go, I'll leave ya to youh business." He smirked and began to take another step.

"What about your paper?"

He paused. "I don't need one, thanks anyway!"

He bumped into me while walking. "'Scuse me," he apologized before continuing walking a bit faster.

I sighed sadly dropping my arm which held my paper. I stuck my hand in my pocket to finger the few coins I had earned, but to my surprise they were gone. Nervously I checked the other pocket which also was empty. I looked up at the street again, just as the boy turned the corner. He had picked my pocket! I thought to myself in outrage. I dropped my stack of papers and took off after the thief. He heard my approaching footsteps and began to sprint. I chased him down the street angrily slowly catching up.

"You're dead!" I called. He didn't respond in any way other than increasing his speed. I was gaining on him, and he knew this too because I saw his worried expression when he glanced behind him.

I finally managed to grab his collar and jump on him. I was piggy back ridding him trying to slow him down. He wildly flung his arms around trying to tear me off.

"Get off of me!" he cried. He ran up to a brick wall slamming me against it. I crumpled to the grimy floor as he flung me off his back.

"Give me my money," I hissed from the ground. I saw his smirk as he pulled coins out of his pocket.

"What, dis? Sorry, findas keepas, losahs weepas," he taunted me waving the money before me. I made snatches but he pulled back at the last minute.

"_Rot in hell_," I sneered in my native language. He raised an eyebrow while looking down at me.

I heard a small chuckle coming from behind the thief.

"Well, I see you two have been acquainted, den," A cold familiar voice said. The boy looked over his shoulder and I rose from the ground to see who had spoken. Spot stood calmly leaning against a wall opposite the one I was smashed against.

"S-Spot!" cried the boy, "what a _pleasant_ surprise," he commented sounding as though he thought it wasn't pleasant at all.

"Pickin' pockets again, eh, Silias?" Spot inquired, his gaze flickering towards me for a second.

"Hey, I'se got a livin' ta make. You sell youh pape's an' I steal."

Spot nodded, "Yeah, I'se don't really like pick pockets, as you know, so I'se gonna ask ya nicely ta return the money to da nice boy _an' apologize_." Spot walked up to the lad so they were nose to nose except Spot had to look up because he was so short compared to the other boy.

The boy reached his hand into his pocket and grudgingly handed me the money.

I took it and immediately stowed it into my own pocket.

"And?" Spot spoke mockingly.

The boys eyes burned angrily at me, "I'se sorry," he spat through his teeth.

Spot smirked up at him.

"Dere, dat wasn't so bad, was it? Now be a good boy an run along," Spot waved him off dismissively. I thought the boy might take a swing at him, I know I would, but he merely nodded stiffly and trudged away.

"He loined long ago not ta mess wid me," Spot spoke, addressing my confusion.

"Oh, um, thank you," I replied tensely looking down at my feet. I knew if I saw that smirk one more time I would lose it.

"So why aw you'se walkin' round Queens? Ain'tcha hoid it's full a pick pockets, drunks, murderers, an' whatnot?" He sounded more amused than concerned.

"No I didn't hear that because I've never been to Queens before," I snapped. I began to walk away but he smoothly blocked my path with his cane. I looked over at him as he gave me a famous smirk.

"So dem 'Hattan newsies ain't teachin' ya da basic sovivial skills? I'se disappointed in Jacky-boy," he said in fake disappointment.

"What's it to you?" I asked irritably.

"Do I annoy you?" he asked slyly.

"Yes," I responded sternly.

"Hm, you'se must be da foist one ta answer dat question honestly," he mused to himself.

"I can't imagine why," I responded sarcastically.

He smirked again, causing my blood to boil. I tried stepping around his cane but he stepped in front of me.

"Conlon, what do you want?" I sighed exasperated.

His face became hardened and serious.

"I don't like dat tone," he almost snarled. He noticed my surprise to his mood swing and put on a new smirk. "Listen, I'll tell you why I'se heah if ya stop tryin' ta leave," he offered lowering his cane and replacing it in the loop of his pants.

I nodded my agreement and waited patiently for him to speak.

"I was thinkin' 'bout yesterday's fight," he began, "I'se noticed youh pretty good, an you neva tried ta hit me once."

"Except for the very beginning," I added.

"Right," he chuckled, "dat was da only time. Anyways, I like a kid that can fight like you can."

"What are you getting at?" I asked confused.

He rolled his eyes at me. "Can't even guess?"

"No."

"I'se offerin' you a place in Brooklyn."

"As a newsie?"

"No, as a bum. A 'corse as a newsie!"

"Under _you_?"

His eyes grew cold. "Is dat a problem?"

"No," I stuttered, "I just thought that all of your newsies had to be big scary guys."

He cracked a smile at this.

"Dat's just most a dem."

"Why would you want me?" I asked, thinking of all the reasons I shouldn't go.

"Because you'se can fight, an you'se got a rebellious streak dat I'se like, an you'se also speak my language which I'se thought would come in handy at times. Don't take dis offa' lightly dough. It's rare for me to let in a new newsie, let alone invite one in."

"Well, to be honest I can't sell that well," I said embarrassed.

He shrugged, "Everyone had a down side."

"What about Manhattan?" I asked, thinking of all my friends there.

"What about them?"

"They're my friends!"

"Aw you'se shuah?"

"Of course!"

He sighed disappointedly, shaking his head. "You'se already foigot rule numba t'ree?"

"Trust no one," I recalled, "but I can trust them, can't I?"

He looked at me skeptically.

"What?"

"How long have you known them?"

"A few days." He gave me a knowing smirk.

"Dat's not long enough ta trust someone."

"Well I've only known you for a day and you're asking me to join you," I contradicted.

He smirked again. "But I'se tellin' ya why I want ya. You know why you'd join me. Why do you think dey takin ya in? Come on, use youh brains! Dey're usin' you! Can't you see it?"

I looked at him coldly.

"They would never use me, they're my friends."

"Shuah, dey aw," he said sarcastically.

"Stop that!"

"Look, I'se jus' tellin' da truth. Now you can come wid me or you can take youh chances wid youh 'friends'."

I frowned, looking up at him.

"Can I have one night to think about it?"

"Shuah, but I'se gonna be expectin' you at da docks foist think in da moinin' wid an answer."

"Okay," I nodded my understanding. He gave a final smirk before walking away.

Sighing I trudged back to Manhattan.

The sky darkened and I found myself caught in the rain. I dashed back to the lodge house, but I could not avoid getting soaked.

After slamming the door behind me Racetrack and a few others looked up from a game of marbles. His cigar fell out of his mouth and he laughed loudly soon joined by the other boys.

"What?" I asked confused. Race simply pointed at me between chuckles.

"Ya look like a wet dog dat got beaten!" he roared, slapping the ground. I grimaced realizing this was the second day in a row I came back to the lodge house soaked.

"Yeah, well, what ever," I sighed, running up the stairs. My mind was overflowing with thoughts and I needed some space to think. I could hear their confusion in my quick exit but didn't care. I took my clothes from yesterday and put them on and let my wet clothes hang from the rafters.

Then I climbed up on Blink's and my bunk to ponder.

Should I trust Manhattan or Brooklyn. Manhattan hasn't proven to be disloyal, unlike Brooklyn. Spot's words flew through my head. His silky charming words pressured me to listen to him, but when I looked at the whole picture he was not to be trusted. After all he just wanted to use me, here I had friends . . . I think. No! They are my friends, Spot's trying to trick me.

I decided to decline his offer tomorrow. Feeling satisfied, I plopped off the bed and came down stairs. The boys were still playing marbles and a few more newsies came inside with the same wet condition as me.

Cowboy had water dripping off his hat and Crutchy was cautiously taking steps with his crutch, careful to not slip on the wet wooden floor boards.

"Evenin' boys!" Cowboy called getting greetings all around.

"Hey Cowboy," I called cheerfully.

"Heya Erin! How's it goin'?"

"I'm good," I responded automatically.

"My floors!" I heard a withered voice shriek. "Look what you've done!" Kloppman yelled jabbing a hand at the puddles we made.

"Sorry, Kloppman," Jack began, "I'm sure if ya mop it up it'll be just as g—"

"ME?" Kloppman hollered. "You guys can clean up your own messes! If this isn't cleaned up in the next hour I'll have all of your heads!" With that he angrily trudged to a room behind his counter, only to return with a bucket and two mops. He dumped them on the floor and left.

"Well den, who gonna help me?" Jack asked politely.

Everyone backed off making small excuses.

"I'se had a hawd day sellin' and I got me a mean papa' cut—"

"I'se alloigic ta mops—"

"I would but I promised ta teach da younga' boys how ta gamble—"

"I'll do it," I answered cheerlessly, taking the other mop from Jack's hand, to his relief. It only took half an hour to clean up the puddle. Once we finished Kloppman came in to inspect our work.

"Very good," he complimented, "now don't let it happen again!" he spoke harshly but gave me a quick wink before turning. After all that moping I was exhausted.

I crawled into bed next to Blink and groaned.

"Long day?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Yeah."

"It ain't gonna get bedda," he confirmed.

"That makes me feel just peachy," I sighed sarcastically.

"Just sayin'," he shrugged and went to sleep. I quickly followed his example.

I woke up early as usual and washed up. Instead of waiting for the others I silently tiptoed downstairs. Kloppman was up and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Getting an early morning walk," I lied. He nodded in understanding and I left. There was mist hanging in the air, making it nearly impossible to see. I shivered and set forth to Brooklyn. The mist was even worse on the other side of the bridge.

I finally made it to the docks, taking careful baby steps, so as to not accidentally walk into the water. I silently cursed the mist while walking to the end of the dock.

I looked around uneasily for a pair of stormy blue eyes or bright red suspenders.

"Welcome back," a voice in front of me began. My heart leaped to my throat and I clutched my chest.

"Jumpy fellow, ain't ya?" Spot chuckled.

"I didn't see you!" I said defensively, feeling silly.

"So what's your answer?" It took me a minute to figure out what he was talking about.

"Um, no."

"No, what?" he asked impatiently.

I shuffled my feet. "No, I'm don't want to join you."

I could hear him sigh. "Pity, such a waste of perfectly good talent."

I didn't know how to respond to that so I remained silent.

"Okay, um, bye . . . ?" I slowly began to walk away but he drew out his cane and approached me slowly. I gulped nervously.

"Um, could you put that thing away? It's making me a bit nervous." I stammered. He appeared amused but didn't lower the cane.

"Why won't you join me?" he asked his voice switched to that charming silky tone, the manipulative one.

"Because I don't want to be used," I snarled, backing away from him.

"I see," he said taking more steps to me causing me to take more steps back. "What it I make you an offer?"

"What kind of offer." I hadn't realized I had not been walking backwards in a straight line and one of my feet took a step back over the edge of the dock. I felt my body tilt towards the waters

And prepared to scream but something grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me up.

"Careful!" snapped Spot, impatiently pulling me forward. I bumped into him as he launched me away from the edge.

"Thanks!" I gasped, "what were you saying?"

I could see through the fog that he rolled his eyes and a smirk spread across his face.

"You join me, I'll teach ya how ta fight propa', like a man."

"Are you suggesting I'm not a man?" I asked indignantly, momentarily forgetting I wasn't one.

He smirked wider, "I'se sayin' you ain't got da fightin' skills of a man."

I bit my lip in concentration and felt my eyebrows furrow. New York was dangerous, as were the boys living there, I needed every ounce of help I could get. But did I really need Spot to teach me to fight?

"What makes you any better than Jack or Racetrack or Kid Blink?" I asked, adding Blink's name in.

His cold gray eyes peered back at me through the fog. "I'se da best fightah in awl of New Yoik," he spoke in a quiet powerful voice, "those amateurs don't got nuttin' on me!"

I felt a moment of fear but recovered instantly.

"Spot, no matter what you say I'm not joining you."

He stared at coldly for a few moments. Leaving me feeling vulnerable, I kept my gaze with his making my eyes gaze back firmly, even though I wanted to cower.

Eventually, his face settled into an indifferent expression. "Fine," he spoke smoothly, lowering his cane. I looked up at him cautiously.

"Really?" I asked surprised, I really didn't think he'd give up that quickly.

"Shuah, I'se not gonna drag ya ta Brooklyn, or anyt'in'. If you'se don't wanna join den don't." He answered, shrugging his shoulders.

I took a step from him, then another. "Okay, um, bye?" It came out as a question to his unreadable face.

"See ya later . . . Erin." His final words were like a cue to run. I didn't stop until I was at the distribution office where a few newsies were already coming in.

"Who were ya runnin' from dis time?" he asked sympathetically.

"Wasn't . . . running . . . from . . . anyone. Just . . . running!" I gasped between breaths.

He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "You just ran? What, for fun?"

I nodded, trying to slow down my heart.

"Well, dat explains why youh so fast," he grinned down at me. "Need a minute?"

"No," I shook my head, "I'm good." I followed him to the window and bought 10 papers. He lugged his 50 over his shoulder.

"Kid, you'se ain't gonna make no money with that pathetic pile," he said, inclining his head to my stack.

"I can't sell as good as you," I replied embarrassed.

"You'll get into da hang of it. Ya just need ta loin ta lie, dat's awl."

He made it sound easy, but I come from a home where lying was never acceptable, and I had a terrible poker face to begin with.

I actually managed to sell everything before the eight. It was getting late, though. The gas lamps were already turned on.

I strolled down the dark streets heading back to the lodge house. It was still loud even at night. People were out getting home, buggys passed by noisily, and some factories were still at work. I tried following the familiar streets back home but the poor lighting made it difficult.

I knew it was bound to happen again.

I was lost.

My usually anxiety was replaced with annoyance at my stupidity.

I tried to figure out where I was. Turning around I saw the red bridge I crossed to get to Brooklyn. Maybe if I start walking from there it will jog my memory. It was worth a shot. I ran over and stopped in the middle.

I couldn't help but stop to appreciate the beauty of the view. It was breathtaking. I leaned against the metal sighing. My sensitive ears picked up the sound of someone approaching me. I was surprised by how close the person was and stepped back against the metal. I felt gravity pull on me and I fell backwards. Somehow my hand reached out and caught a metal bar. My heart was beating a mile a minute and sweat broke out on my forehead. A figure's head popped up from above.

"Well, what a surprise seeing _you_ here," a cold voice stated calmly.

"Conlon," I snarled trying to pull myself up. I heard the metal moan in protest.

"Careful," he whispered coolly, "wouldn't it be a shame if ya fell?" I gulped and forced myself not to look down.

"Now I see two thing that can happen; one: I can help you, and two: you can take yer chances wid da wadah."

"Well what are you waiting for, help me!" I cried in impatience and fear.

"Well, I just thought you might be interested in the catch," he spoke slowly.

"What. Catch?" I asked in short breaths.

"You owe me if I save you. And do you know what I'd want?"

"I'm not going to Brooklyn," I snarled, trying to ignore the fact I was dangling over icy water.

"Well it makes sense doesn't it? I save your life, you use it to woik fo' me."

"I'll climb up myself!"

Even in the dark I could see his skeptical glance.

"I'll show you!" I immediately struggled to climb. My arms burned and shook, but I continued. He watch in amusement the whole time. After two minutes he spoke.

"Given up yet?"

"I'm taking a break," I hissed.

"Take youh time," he replied in exaggerated cheer.

I glares at nothing in particular and tried to pull myself up again.

"_Damn you!_" I swore in the language only he and I knew.

"I take dat to mean ya quit," he announced. I didn't respond but I could hear him reaching for me. My fingers began to slip from the metal. Of course they would now!

"Spot!" I screamed as I felt my fingers clench at air. I could hear him swear as I fell to the water. Hitting the water from up high was indescribably painful. My body burned and felt sore, which was only worsened when I swallowed salt water. My lungs were screaming in pain.

Fear welled up inside of me. I didn't want to die!

I saw a crash of bubbles nearby. They began to dissolve revealing a dark figure twisting through the water.

I widened my eyes in surprise, did Spot jump for me?

The figure's hand reached out for me and wrapped an arm around my waist. We rushed to the surface drinking in sweet air.

Both of us were breathing heavily, as I leaned against his shoulder shivering.

My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck in an unbreakable hold.

"Calm down, I've got ya!" he gasped. I then realized I was shaking uncontrollably.

He slowly made way for shore. After a long time we reached the docks.

"Thank you," I shuddered letting go once we were safe.

"Shuah," he shrugged wringing his hat out. I leaned my back against his, still out of breath.

"You win," I sighed.

"I awlways win," he replied nonchalantly.

I let silence envelope us momentarily. Only our breaths were heard.

"So now what?"

"Now, you go back to Jack and tell him you'se wid me. Got dat?"

I nodded sullenly.

"Good."

I still didn't get up.

"I ain't waitin' awl day." He warned.

I felt the hard wood of the dock make contact with my face.

The world slowly began to black out and the last thing I heard Conlon say was "Wha's da matta wid you?"


	3. part 3

My head felt like it was underwater.

Ugh.

I pried my eyes open and used every muscle in my body to sit up. A wave of nausea hit me and I grimaced. My head rang like a bell.

I heard a splash.

"_Oh, God, don't be dead!"_

_Water crashed over my head. I felt my vision fading._

"_Don't die on me, you lousy-" the last words were cut off by another crash of bitter cold water._

"_Erin?"_

I groaned.

"Erin!"

My eyes flew open and I was shocked to see an electrifying blue grey. Was I still underwater? Am I dead?

Then everything came into focus. I had been staring into Spot's eyes. Maybe we died together. Maybe, I'll see my brothers. Why does it hurt so much to be dead?

"Erin, aw you'se awake?"

"Am I dead?" I asked, my voice was rough.

"Nah."

"Darn."

He didn't looked puzzled by my response.

"You saved me?" I asked in surprise.

"Yeah, I ain't losin' somet'in' as valuable as yaself."

I then remembered the deal on the bridge.

"So am I your slave now?"

"I wasn't going to use dat woid, but that woiks just fine, awl da same."

I groaned again clutching my stomach.

"Water?"

He handed me a small cup of water, which I thirstily drank from.

"So what's the first order, master?" I said sullenly.

"Well, foist, is get bettah."

"What are you talking about, I'm fine!"

He bit his lip as though trying not to tell me something.

"What?!" I asked, my voice getting a bit shrill.

"Well when you fell you hit youh face really hawd on sumtin' an . . ."

"What!? What's wrong with my face!"

"I shouldn't a told ya," he sighed rubbing the back of his neck.

"Spot, I'll kill you if you don't tell me!"

He made no sigh of emotion but handed me a small circular object. It was a shaving mirror. I peered into the cracked glass and gasped. A deep three inch cut trailed down from my bottom left eye lid to the middle of my cheek. It was the kind of cut that left you horribly scarred.

The torn skin was red and swollen from the sea water, I could see spot had cleaned up some of the blood, but it was still oozing. I felt like throwing up again.

I sat mortified.

Spot watched.

"Oh," I choked. Spot watched me not exactly in concern but just in interest. "Oh."

"Well?" His voice broke the silence horribly.

"Well," I sighed, "there's nothing I can do about it."

I poked it cautiously. It stung a bit, but it didn't hurt too badly.

"Is there anything else I'd like to know about? Any missing limbs?" I said the last part with a hint of sarcasm.

He looked uplifted by my humor.

"Nah, your foine. But I'se want ya ta rest. No need for ya ta fall ova' again."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I don't need to rest!" I slowly got up, hiding my discomfort. My clothes were still damp; he obviously didn't think to change them, which was a good thing too.

He strutted right in front of me, our noses almost touching.

My heart leapt for just a second. I forced the heat in my face to go down.

He looked me over quickly. "You wouldn't last a day," he whispered in a throaty voice.

I wanted to glare but felt childish, so I stuck to rolling my eyes, and crossing my arms.

"Try me, Conlon."

He flashed a wicked grin, and leaned forward. I raised an eyebrow in confusion leaning back.

I felt his hands at on my shoulders. They gripped me and shoved me back into the bed.

"Hey!" My breath was knocked out of me by the impact of the bed.

Spot showed no mercy.

"You!" I gasped.

"Me." He chuckled. I closed my eyes exasperatedly.

Who did this boy think he was?!

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Spot's Point of View:

I could hear Jack's newsies inside talking in quiet voices. I wonder what they're talking about? I asked sarcastically. Erin had been missing for a whole day, and I wouldn't be surprised if they thought he fell into the sewer and drowned, that boy wasn't as sharp as most New Yorkers. I brushed my hair back and opened the door.

Everyone looked up at me expectantly. I noticed Kid Blink looked most expectant.

"Whaddaya want, Spot?" demanded Jack in a voice of superiority. He was looking strained and impatient.

I couldn't help but smirk. They were all worried and I was the only one that could help them.

"I'se heah ya lost a littul 'Hattan newsie." Everyone tensed, I could feel everyone glare me down.

"You-" Jack's fists were clenched then released, "do . . . do you know wheah he is?"

"I do."

Everyone waited in silent impatience.

"He's in Brooklyn safe an' sound, wheah he will stay fo' da rest a his careah (career) as a newsie."

"Why would he stay dere, Spot?" Race asked as he fingered a pair of dice.

"Because we had a deal, and now he owes me."

Everyone gasped. They all knew what a Spot Conlon deal was like: high benefits with high costs. And most of all, Spot always keeps his word. Always.

"What da hell did ya make a deal wid him for?!" Blink asked standing up. "He's just a kid!"

I narrowed my eyes at him causing him to step back. What did Blink care for? Anyways, Erin is no kid. I remember the way he fought.

"I saved his life. Now he owes me. And don't worry," I flashed them an arrogant smile, "I'll take good care of him, and maybe I'll even let ya visit ev'ry now an' den."

With that, I walked out of the room.

As the door shut behind me I could hear someone say, "dat's Spot for ya."

My lip twitched, almost smiling.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Erin's POV:

Being back out on the streets was nice for a change. Recovering from the fall was horrible. I was introduced to Spot's newsies. All of them were nice, or at least, they didn't try to kill me. It was uncomfortable listening to them, though. They usually swore and spoke about gambling and girls. I mastered, controlling my emotions from listening to their conversations.

Once Spot said I was okay, I was back, selling 10 papes a day. I didn't make as much as most, but it was a start. Spot gave me specific selling grounds (farthest from Manhattan).

No need to ask why.

"Hey, Erin!" I turned quickly and then sighed.

Doc was jogging up to me waving his last few papers. He's been checking on me constantly since the incident. Apparently he knows a lot about medicine so everyone calls him Doc.

He came up panting and looked up at me.

"Are ya feelin'-"

"All right?" I finished tiredly. He looked up apologetically. "Is Spot making you check on me?"

"Maybe. But dat ain't yer business."

"Well, you can tell Spot I am fine! F-i-n-e!"

"I do!" he interjected exasperated. "I do, but he's so paranoid!"

I rolled my eyes. Typical.

"I was already done selling for the day but was not interested in going back yet.

"Hey, whasa' mattah?" he asked cocking his head side ways.

"I don't like Spot."

"Likin' him ain't in da job description." He shrugged.

"I still don't like him." I folded my arms over my chest and sighed loudly.

"Listen, I, uh, know he can be arrogant but give him a chance. Deep down he's really a good guy." I could Doc was being serious otherwise I'd of laughed.

"Thanks, Doc. I'll . . . try to remember that." His green eyes twinkled and he waved good bye.

"Erin!" I turned again and grimaced. Speak of the devil . . .

Spot walked over, his shirt was hardly covering his chest and his cane was resting against his shoulder.

And the devil shall appear.

"What?" I asked.

"What aw you'se doin'?" he asked sounded suspicious.

"Nothing."

"Den come wid me." He walked past me, grabbing my hand.

I raised an eye brow. "Where are we going?"

"Dat's fo' me ta know an' you ta find out."

"You know that makes no sense at all, right?"

He chuckled, but kept walking.

"Please tell me?"

"Awlright. I'se tink you'se ready to come wid me for conferences."

"Conferences?"

He rolled his shoulders, as if they were tense.

"I'se king a Brooklyn, kid, I meet up wid udda leaduh's and discuss secret tings. No one else gets to heah what happens, 'cept you."

"Why me?"

"Because wid you I can discuss ting's wid no one else listening an' if sumtin' should eva happen I tink you can take care a yerself."

I felt pride grown inside.

"Don't get a swelled head." He warned.

"I won't," I promised.

We turned into a nice restaurant. A lone man stood at the counter but it was otherwise, empty.

Spot strolled up to the counter and tapped on it three times. The man looked up with fearful eyes. He jerked his head, indicating we should go through the back. I followed Spot out to the back. We were in a shaded alley, near a box of deserted papers. Standing in the shadows was a single boy. He was stronger looking than Spot, and didn't look any friendlier.

"What do ya want, Spot?" the boy asked in a deep voice.

"I want information, Shadow."

The boy's eyes shifted to me then to Spot.

"Got yerself a second in command, I see."

"He's merely here as an assistant," Spot spoke quietly but dangerously.

"Kinda short, ain't he?"

"You should know betta den ta judge people based on dere height." Spot answered.

"True," he nodded, "so what information do ya want?"

"I wanna know why youh boys aw sneakin' inta Brooklyn every udda night."

Spot was watching Shadow's unperturbed face.

"Just visin' friends, I guess. Why? Do ya think I sent 'em dere?"

Spot starred with cool eyes. "Well I'se tink dey ain' jus' visitin' 'cuz I'se seein' dem walk out wid packages, an I wanna know what dey want in Brooklyn dat dey can't have in da Bronxs?"

Shadow narrowed his eyes. He calmly looked at his finger nails, as if to check for dirt, then looked back up.

"Well, Spot. If I were you'se I would be more concoined about sometin' else besides what me boys aw doing in Brooklyn."

"What should I be worried about?" Spot asked impatiently.

Shadow smiled knowingly, "about what dey're doing now!"

I looked to the end of the alley. "Spot look out!" I yelled. I shoved him over quickly, hearing a silent curse as he fell.

Then I felt something crash into my body, wait, not a crash, but it felt like one. Like a huge crash of pain that was concentrated on one spot. I looked down and saw a stream of red soaking my shirt. I looked up and saw three boys carrying pistols, aimed at me and Spot.

I glanced at Spot, who was back on his feet assessing the situation.

"Wha's dis, Shadow?" He asked angrily.

"I'se don't like snoopy people like you'se, Spot."

I could hear the boys cocking their guns.

"_Spot run_!" I screamed, this time not talking in english. Somehow we managed to run back into the restaurants and back outside. I could hear the boys coming.

"Come on," Spot urged, pulling my hand. I was being fueled by adrenaline, but at the same time I felt dizzy.

I keeled over and blacked out.

When I woke up the first thing I realized was that my mouth was really dry. It felt like sandpaper. The second thing I realized was that my chest hurt. A lot. Even breathing hurt.

The third thing I realized was Spot and Doc were watching me. Intensely.

Weakly I opened my eyes, trying to sit up. I felt like I would black out again.

"Careful! You'll kill yourself!" Doc warned, grabbing my shoulders and steadying me. I looked down at his touch and saw that they had bandaged my chest up. But that means . . .

"So," Spot spoke in a strange tone, "how do ya feel?"

"Great," I spoke cautiously. My head spun and I almost fell backwards and hit my head, if Doc didn't catch me.

"Yeah, I can tell." I laughed a little, but it came out as a cough. My lips were wet, so I wiped them off and looked at my sleeve. Blood.

"So, how'd we escape?" I wheezed.

"I carried ya back to da lodge house. You were pretty light, with all dat blood outta ya."

I raised my eye brows and felt my eyes almost roll back. How much blood was it? I imagined the streets covered in red.

"I see you fixed me up," I spoke up in a pained voice.

"Um, about dat . . ." Doc sounded regretful. "I couldn't remove da bullet widout killin' ya, so it's still dere. You'll just have to live wid it fo' da rest a yer life."

I choked back my words.

"It's still in me?!" My voice was hysterical.

"Be thankful youh alive, dat's a miracle!" Spot spoke up. "I'se was shuah you'se was dead!"

"Oh . . ."

Spot turned to Doc and told him to leave. Doc exited, giving me one last apologetic glance.

"Now." Spot said once the door closed. "You have some explainin' ta do."

I shifted uncomfortably. "What?"

"I'd like ta know what a goil is doin walkin' around like a boy." Spot looked at me with an unreadable expression.

"Uuuuhhh-"

"Ya don't have ta answer now. But I want one eventually."

"Okay."

"In da meantime, I hope ya knows, you still aw woikin' fo' me, goil or not."

"Yessir." I replied sullenly.

"An, none 'a da boys aw gonna find out about dis, right?"

"Yessir."

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Yesterday's traumatizing events obviously don't mean I couldn't sell. Spot had me and about with ten papes in hand. My wound was wrapped carefully, so it was practically unseen and the blood couldn't seep through.

Spot told me what routes to avoid getting too close to the Bronx wouldn't dare enter Brooklyn territory in the day time it was better safe than sorry.

In addition, Spot ordered Doc to follow me everywhere. Not that he told me, I figured after Doc was trailing behind me suspiciously.

"Doc!" I called as he pretended to look at a bouquet shop. He looked up and was at my side instantly.

"What's the problem?" he asked in concern.

I narrowed my eyes and sighed.

"I'm being stalked by a creepy newsie that was sent by Spot! Do you think you could help me with this?"

He blinked and relaxed his shoulders.

"Erin, Spot said to. I'se gotta."

"What if I disappeared for a while?" I asked.

"Ah, not happenin'."

"Can I ask something, then?"

He looked cautious but nodded.

"What did you think when you first found out . . . what I am?"

He shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably and scratched the back of his head.

"Um, well ta be honest, I really didn't know what ta think. I neva' woulda imagined- I just- I mean, You're so tough an' awl I jus' couldn't believe it, I guess."

I took in his words quietly, looking off to the side.

"But, it's not dat you'se ain't . . . um, pretty or anyt'in' you'se pretty an' tough. Yous'e pretty darn tough. But also pretty, if ya get what I'm sayin' . . .?" he looked unsure if his words made sense and I could tell he was getting nervous.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I think I get what you're tryin' ta say."

He sighed in relief and returned to his normally smiley self.

We walked back to the lodge house quietly. Not the awkward kind of silence, but the serene kind. When I got back Spot was there, in the back, coolly watching us enter.

"I'se gotta tawk wid ya, Erin." He called, his stormy eyes boring into mine.

"Um, sure."

He led me up to his room and closed the door behind us. "Sit," he ordered. I sat on the small bed and waited patiently.

He pulled off his cabbie hat and agitatedly brushed his fingers through his hair. I briefly thought of how cute he looked when he was stressed but then focused again on the situation at hand.

"Am I in trouble?" He looked down at me, his eyes unreadable.

"Nah, well, sorta." He came up to me and pulled off my hat. My oddly colored hair fell down to my shoulders. It was growing and would need to be cut soon.

I looked up at him confused.

He looked at my hair with a calculating expression.

"I think we already know I'm a girl," I said annoyed. I wanted him to talk.

His eyes glared for a second and then calmed.

"I'se wanted ta see again. I jus' can't believe it." His gaze made me feel uncomfortable. I turned my face but he grabbed my chin and forced me forward. "Hold still a second!" He got down on one knee and carefully examined my face.

I raised an eyebrow, to show my confusion. "Ah, now I see it."

"Took you long enough," I remarked.

"No, I see your bravery." I looked at him carefully.

"What are you talking about? You can't see bravery!"

He grinned devilishly at me.

"I can. It's in the face, deep in da lines. I see you 'ave a lot, too. Dat's why you faced me and den took dat bullet."

"I wasn't being brave! That was in the spur of the moment!" I exclaimed.

"Nope, dat's bravery for ya!"

I rolled my eyes, "so what are we supposed to talk about?"

"Listen, I was t'inkin' dat maybe being a goil is a good idea. We could use dat as a disguise or ta fool people. It's actually brilliant, 'cus you can hold yer own.

"I suppose, but what do you want me to do?"

"Nothin' for now, but be prepared for special missions."

"What do you mean by 'special'?"

He smirked, "you'll see!"

Spot Conlon never ceases to surprise me.


	4. part 4

When I entered the lodge house, of course there was instant silence. Everybody knew I was a girl. Eyes followed me as I walked upstairs to the bunk room. I went to my designated bunk and laid down.

Up here, all alone, I had time to think quietly to myself. Bliss.

But my peaceful thoughts were interrupted by a knocking.

"Who is it?" I groaned from the bed, too tired to open my eyes.

"Ya know, most people at least would _look_," an amused voice responded.

I cocked my head and peeked through one eye. It was a trio of Brooklyn newsies piling into the room.

"Can I help you?" I asked tiredly, not even sitting up.

"Maybe," the speaker replied. "We'se wanna know why Spot has ya heah."

I opened my eyes all the way and looked these boys straight on. The speaker was tall, and had warm brown eyes. His coppery hair was messily stuck under his cap. The one on his left was pale with short red hair and light brown eyes, the one on his right was tan with black hair and green eyes. They were all strong and intimidating. Sadly, I was too tired to care.

"That's between me and Spot," I said curtly.

"Sorry," he replied, "didn't mean ta intrude. I'm Duke, by da way, and dis is Flames (he pointed at the red head) and Le Maître (he pointed at the dark haired boy). The latter one gave a wink at the mention of his name. Duke sighed shaking his head. "He's a terrible flirt, dis one is," he groaned. "Just ignore him like da rest of us."

"Ignores ses mots? Je suis à votre service, mon cherie!" The boy spoke grinning.

"Ah," responded Duke, "he prefoihs his native language anyways, so it ain't hard to ignore 'im."

"Madamoiselle, feel free to speak wiz me whenever you weesh." He took my hand, kissing it lightly, getting a kick from Flames."

"Sorry 'bout, him," sighed the red head. "His name means 'the master', and he's got it for a reason."

I waited for someone to explain why.

"He's a master wid da ladies, if ya get what I mean."

"Oh," I responded. "Okay, I'll remember dat." I gave him a brief glance receiving, yet another wink.

"So, you must be sumtin' special, if Spot's wants ya so bad." Duke spoke curiously.

"I guess," I replied dully.

"What's goin' on heah?" a voice at the door asked. Everyone jumped in alarm. Spot was leaning against the wood calmly, as usual. "Well, well," he droned, it seems me boys aw making demselves aquainted wid me new newsie."

"Just intraducin' awselves, Spot. No harm or anytin'!" Duke responded quickly, everyone rising at once, including me.

"Well, I'se gonna have ta ask ya ta leave. We'se got . . . business ta take cahe of." Spot's arm snaked around my waist drawing me near to him. The other boys looked between Spot and me and backed out of the room silently. Spot's arm released me as soon as they were out of sight.

"Ok, put dis on." Spot threw something white at me, to my surprise.

"What is this?" I asked in surprise.

"A dress, ya know, da ding youh supposed ta be wearin'." He rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Well, would you at least leave?" I asked feeling embarrassed.

"No time, just put it on!"

I sighed angrily and began to strip out of my boy clothes, in the corner.

After getting dressed I faced Spot.

"Now put dis on," he handed me a jar and a small brush. I looked at it in confusion. "ta cover youh scars wid," he answered.

I went to the bathroom and applied the powdery cover up to my face. The scar was covered up. I looked the way I did when I first came to this country.

"What's the occasion, Spot?" I asked quietly.

"_You've got a date_," He spoke in our language.

"_With whom, might I ask?_" my voice was strained.

"_Someone I know. He's got information that I need._"

We were on the streets walking side by side. Spot's cane was up against his shoulder, like a solider.

Spot paused and grabbed my shoulders so his lips were against my ear.

"_I need to know exactly what the Bronx's boys are up to, got that?_" Spot was whispering into my ear, tickling the skin.

"_Yes._"

"Good goil." He drew me up to a nearby window. It was what appeared to be the inside of a bar. There was a large group of boys in the room (probably newsies). "Welcome to da hang out of da Queen's pickpockets. Not nearly as pleasant as meself, but if ya want information, dey're youh people."

I watched carefully. I could see these boys were all armed with knives. Additionally, they were all looking around with shifty, suspecting eyes.

"Remember me old friend Silias?"

"Yes," I spoke through gritted teeth.

"Well, he's da one wid information. He's da leada' of Queens pickpockets, actually."

I groaned.

"Get ta woik, goily. I've got youh back if anytin' should happen." Spot patted my back and left.

I grimaced at what I was about to do. Cautiously I opened the door to the bar, choking back. The room smelled terribly of smoke and alcohol.

"Hey sweet face, can I get ya a drink," someone asked drunkly. I shoved him off and looked around the room. In the corner I saw him. Silias was sitting at a table by himself, watching me in interest. I strolled over to his table and placed a hand on my hip.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked sweetly.

"Not at awl, miss," he answered beckoning towards the seat across.

"What brings a nice goil like you heah?" he asked slyly.

"Oh, I just heard that the most powerful man in Queens was here, so I wanted to see him for myself." I was in awe at my quick thinking and my ability to remain in character.

He grinned, taking in the bait. "Well heah he is. Now what aw ya gonna do about it?"

I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I felt uncomfortable. What should I do next?

A few of the guys started arguing over something quite loudly.

"Tell ya what, I'se got me a great apahrtment neahby. Let's ditch dees boys and go dere, for some peace and quiet."

"Why not?" I smiled, trying to appear alluring. I knew that my brothers would be ashamed of me but I was working for Spot now. I just had to get the information.

Once outside I decided to boost his ego more.

"So I hear you're the best fighter in New York," I said impressed.

He furrowed his brows.

"I wish I'se could say dat's true. But ta be honest it's actually Spot Conlon. But I'se da best pick pocket." He grinned wickedly.

"Ah, I heard this also." I clenched my fists.

His bright green eyes glances at me, flashing in the lamp light. He looked confused by my tone.

"Eh, if I eva' stuck me hand in yer pocket, it wasn't poisonal or anytin'. I'se just need da money, ya know?"

I did know. Just because we're kids New York isn't going to be nicer to us. I've seen kids make money by any means to get shoes, food, shelter, anything! Newsies especially suffer because income is based on how well you can sell papers. I've known their hardships well.

"You didn't pick my pocket, I uh, have a friend you've picked from."

"Oh, sorry. By da way ya neva' told me youh name."

"Oh, um . . . it's Er- Emily. Emily O'Connor."

"And I'm a monkey's uncle. I know liahs when I heah dem. What's yer real name?"

I sighed dragging my feet with each step.

"Erin . . . Collins."

"Nice, very Irish."

"I _am_ Irish." I responded. It wasn't hard to tell!

"Why'd ya lie about yer name?"

"Because . . ." What would Spot do? I asked myself. I was blanking and he was waiting.

Oh God!

"Um, well I really am not supposed to be here." I said vaguely.

"Why?" His tone was meant to sound uninterested but his impatience showed otherwise.

"Because . . . my brother. He told me I had to stay home and he didn't want me to talk to pickpockets, but I thought you were so . . . interesting." It was a poor answer, but hopefully he'd buy it.

"Ah, da protective type."

"Yup." I replied quietly.

"Don't worry youhself, Silias is good at takin' cahe of important people such as youself."

"Really?"

"Yes ma'am. Me apahrtment is right heah." He opened a door to a small red bricked building. I followed him inside, not without looking behind me first, looking for Spot. Where was that boy?

I trailed behind Silias, following his shaggy black hair, almost impossible to see in the dark. Finally we reached his room; a small shabby place, with a single bed, dresser, and basin. There were small objects all over the floor. From wallets, to watches, to scarves, to pocket knives.

"Why don't you come sit wid me?" Silias offered patting the side of the bed next to him.

I sat down, somewhat ungracefully, while trying to avoid stepping on the objects on the floor.  
Silias's hand slide around my waist.

I was about to voice my interjection but thought better of it. He might get suspicious.

"Could I ask you something?" my voice was hesitant.

"Anytin' he whispered against my neck, his breath sent goose bumps on my flesh.

"I have a friend whose a Bronx newsie and he's been going between Brooklyn and the Bronx at night. He won't tell me what he's up to, but a friend said you'd know."

Silias looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes grew distant.

"Yeah, I would know. He's probably paht of da Bronx Scheme against Conlon."

"What scheme?" I asked confused.

"Well, ya know dere leadah, Shadow, he ain't happy about Spot controllin' everytin'. So he found a friend in Brooklyn that also doesn't like Spot. His friends sendin' him some weapons, some of which I poisonally sold him from my pickin's."

"So he's putting together an army to destroy Brooklyn?"

"Yeah." Silias was starting to lean a little too close.

"But why would you get involved?" He furrowed his eye brows in annoyance.

"Well, I don't cahe ta be honest. I'm no Conlon fan but I don't hate him. I saw an opportunity for money, dat's awl. Besides, Conlon is da best. E's pretty much invincible." I saw a mix of fear and admiration shine in his eyes. Then they returned to the present.

"Back to us," he began pulling me close by my hips.

"Um, well I really should be going. It's late, and my brother –"

"Just five more minutes . . ." his voice grew husky and his eyes hungry.

"Maybe another time—"

He sighed. I could of sworn I heard him murmur "women!" under his breath.

"Fine. Do ya want me ta take ya home?"

"No! . . . I mean, no that's ok. I can manage."

He grinned, "tough goil!"

I rolled my eyes. "Sure."

He walked me down the stairs and opened the door for me.

"When can I see ya again?" he asked.

"Umm . . ."

"Dere you aw!"

I turned around in relief when I heard the familiar voice.

Doc was running towards me with a stern look on his face.

"I'se told ya you can't talk to no pick pockets!" He then gave Silias a down right scary look. Silias was unaffected.

"So youh Erin's brudda?"

"Yeah, and don't you forget ya piece a garbage! Stay away from me sister!" with that he wrapped an arm protectively around my shoulders and pulled me away.

"See ya later, den, Erin!" Silias called slyly.

I looked up at Doc, his face was still stern, but from this point of view I could see he was a little pale.

"You ok?"

"Do you realize," he spoke sharply, "What situation you put youhself in?

I sighed, shaking my head.

"I'm sorry, he almost figured out I was up to something, but I got the information!"

"That ain't what I'se talkin about!" he snapped "He could of hoit you!"

I choked on my words. "What?"

He sighed, his arm still was over my shoulders protectively.

"Cleahly, ya don't know as much as ya tink."

"What does that mean?" I asked annoyed. What did I do wrong?

"Neva' mind."

"May I cut in?" A voice behind us asked.

I looked back to see Spot's piercing blue eyes.

Doc grudgingly removed his arm and Spot's replaced it.

"So," he began staring straight ahead, "I'se guessing dis was youh foist time trying to get information from a man?"

"Uh, yeah."

He chuckled darkly to himself. "Typical. Youh too trustin'. Ya really need ta remember me special rules."

"Sorry. I got what you wanted, though."

"Good. But next time be cahful. I like me newsies ta come back the way I left dem."

"How did Doc know—"

"I sent him as soon as ya entered da apahrtment. I also told him what paht ta play."

Spot's preparedness was extraordinary.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." The rest of the walk was silent. When we got back Spot walked to his without a word.

* * *

Sitting up I in bed I kept my eyes on the other boys. All still sleeping. The silence in the air was stifling.

Silently and slowly I crept out of bed. I dressed myself up without waking any one. After putting my hat on I slinked out of the room. The door made the softest squeak but disturbed no one. All I had to do was go out the door and I'd be free.

I was missing my friends from Manhattan and needed to see them. Especially Blink. I felt my face get warmer. He was my first real friend.

My hand turned to doorknob ever so slightly when something black and long hit it.

"Ow!"

I hissed, turning to see a grinning Spot.

"_Hello, Sweet heart, where are you off to at this hour?"_

"_Nowhere, just going out."_

"_To see Silias?"_

I paused in confusion.

"_Wha- No! I'm going to see Manhattan!"_

"_You _were_ going to see Manhattan." _He smirked stepping between me and the door.

"_I don't want you going there anymore."_

"_You can't stop me."_

"_I saved your life."_

I winced at that one. Why'd he have to say that?

I huffed loudly and turned. If you could hear someone smirking I was getting a deaf from it.

I sat at the bottom of the stairs and rested my head against the wall.

"_Come with me."_ He spoke from next to me.

I looked up at him and saw a playful expression.

"_Why?"_

"_I think it's time to teach you to fight proper."_

His words were familiar. Very similar to Torrence's.

"Fine." He took me to his docks, walking down the planks. I stayed on land with my arms crossed.

"Come on, slow poke!" he called from the end.

I shook my head, "I came to learn to fight not to drown!"  
He cocked his head thoughtfully and then grinned.

"Good idea!"

"Wha-? What's a good idea?" I asked startled.

He ran at me in super speed and picked me up. I had no time to protest. Before I knew it, I was in the water for the third time in a week.

"No!" I shrieked. I could hear him jump in next to me laughing.

"Hold still, I'se gonna teach ya ta swim!"

"I'm going to die!" I wrapped my arms around his neck as instinctive protection.

"Hold still!" he ordered. I finally stopped flailing my limbs and listened to him. Then I realized how cold it was.

"No one goes in the water this early!" I complained, squeezing him tighter.

He rolled his eyes. "The sooner ya listen the sooner we leave. Now I need ya ta let go for a minute."

I gave him a hard long look. Once I decided he was serious I spoke.

"You're joking."

"Nope."

"If I die, I want you to know that—"

"Save it, and just let go!" he interrupted.

I released my grip unwillingly and began to sink. His hands caught me at the elbow.

"Now kick you're legs like scissors and do this with your arms." He demonstrated with one arm so the other held me up. My first try was a failure. He pushed me to do it again and again until I could stay up for 5 seconds.

The sun was breaking through and the boys would wake soon.

"Good woik. Let's get changed now." Spot lifted me up and then pulled himself up.

We were both dripping water and I was shivering.

"You'll get used to da cold. Especially afta we practice in da winter." He laughed and began walking with his usual cockiness.

"T-the w-w-winter?"

I couldn't tell if he was joking but I knew one thing was certain. Spot was absolutely unpredictable.


	5. part 5

I recognized the group of boys from the other day when I got back to the lodge house. My clothes were dripping everywhere and all the boys were snickering at my increasingly common state of being . . . drenched.

I found a change of clothes and went to the bathroom to change when Le Maitre stepped up in front of me.

"Do you need help, mademoiselle," his bright eyes glanced at my wet clothes.

"No," I replied curtly pushing past him.

Duke cocked his head. "Wassa matta, Goil?"

I felt my eyelids droop from exhaustion. Everything was the matter. I wanted to tell him this but was cut off.

"Erin!" My reaction was slow but I turned to face the voice that called me.

Spot was smirking from the doorway, with his arms crossed.

"Wha'?" I mumbled feeling very tired. His eyes were almost mocking me.

"I'se got a special mission for you."

I groaned, rubbing my eyes.

"Name it, I'm ready." A yawn escaped my mouth taking Duke, Le Maitre, and Flames by surprise.

"I'se hoid beahs make dat sound," Duke exclaimed.

"Dere ain't any beahs in New yoik!" argued Flames.

"Suah dere aw! Not in da city paht, dough."

Spot shook his head. "I need you to rest for the day."

I looked up confused.

"Rest? That's my mission?"

"Aw you arguin' wid me?" His eyes flashed in a threatening way.

"Errrr . . ."

"Get ta bed!"

Sighing I dragged myself to my cot and crashed into it.

"What da hell!" Spot walked over and flipped me onto my back. "Wassa matta wid you?"

"Hi, Spot," I sighed tiredly.

"Yeah, you need rest."

"I'm not sleeping more than an hour . . . maybe two."

He said something else but I was already out.

When I woke I was surprised that it was dark out. I sat up and looked around. Everyone was probably out eating dinner. I was surprised when I saw a figure emerge from the shadows.

Spot was leaning against the wall and was now approaching me.

"Spot?"

"I'se thought you might be worried if ya woke up alone. So bein' da gent dat I am, I'se decided ta stay heah."

I stretched and looked back at him.

"Thank you."

"No problem." He sat down next to me facing the wall.

"So, who's Peter? And Torrence and Shane?" His voice was full of curiosity and . . . something else.

"My brothers." My head began pounding and I heard a familiar sound in the back of my head. Suddenly I was on the ship again with my brothers. The hot stuffy room, the water crashing around outside.

"Erin!" I looked up and saw Spot with an annoyed look.

"I asked you a question."

"Sorry," I laughed weakly.

He sighed shaking his head. "Listen, aw ya hungry?"

"Not really."

"Good, come wid me."

I followed him out on the cobblestone streets. there was no rain but some lightning. He was walking with his special business stance. His shoulders were squared, his chin slightly upturned, eyes narrowed, and cane over shoulder like a solider.

"Spot, where are we going?"

His eye quickly stole a glance at me but then went forward again.

"I'se checkin' sumtin' an' I need me a good helpa'."

"What do I get to do?" I was surprised at how excited I was. So far, all of Spot's special jobs almost got me killed.

"You'se got to shut yer mouth and pay attention. We'se gonna see if one of me 'friends' is on my side."

"Alright."

We walked to a corner of a street. "Okay," he whispered. "Dis is da hawd paht. Once we cross dis street we'se trowin' awselves in danger."

"I've got my eyes open."

He grinned down at me, but because of the lighting, he looked sort of malicious.

We stepped at the same time.

Almost instantly I heard footsteps.

"Watch yerself!" Spot called. He pulled up to fists, so I copied his actions. A group of boys began to close in on us.

"Well looky heah! A couple of trespassers!" Gee, that sounded familiar. New York was ridiculously obsessive with territory.

"Hey Tommy, dese is Spot Conlon." They all grunted and stepped back.

"What're ya doin' heah, Conlon?" the gruff voice demanded.

"I'se gotta have a littul tawk wid Spencer." Spot voice was very business like and serious.

The boys turned to each other, sharing whispers.

"Okay but yer frien's gotta stay."

"_What_?" Spot stepped right into the boys face, eyes ablaze.

The boy looked uncertain but continued speaking with a frightened voice.

"Y-y-you hoid me."

"I don't take ohdahs from nobody, an' if dat don't suit ya I'll soak ya!" I was scared but re. Everyone could see Spot meant business.

"Right dis way." A boy said after a long silence.

We followed them down the street saying nothing. Spot's face was full of determination.

Finally we stopped in front of a fire escape.

"Goin' up!" A boy gestured to the railing and allowed Spot to start climbing. I followed keeping an eye on the boy behind me.

Once reaching the top we saw a large group of boys talking, smoking, and playing poker.

They all looked up and froze. Suspicious frown covered each of their faces.

"Spot!" a voice called. It was a child's voice.

A young boy shoved older boys aside to come to us. He was acting arrogant for a group of teenage boys, but they all stepped aside respectfully.

"What brings you heah, me old mate?" The boy's voice was cool but serious.

Spot spat into his hand (to my surprise) and extended it to the child. I thought he would make some comments, but instead copied the action and joined their hands.

"Buisness cawls, Spencer," Spot replied focusing on the lad.

"_Who is this inexperienced friend of yours_?" the boy spoke in my language, nodding his head to me. I raised an eye brown but made no comment.

"_Don't be quick to judge,"_ Spot replied, "_he knows a lot more then you might think._"

The boy simply shrugged.

"Come into me office, boys." He turned around and walked like a general. I didn't like his attitude.

We followed him to the corner of the roof. The boy lithely climbed down so he was holding the ledge and swung himself down into the top window. Spot looked at me in concern. "I'll go foist," he said, "and if ya fall I promise I'll catch ya"

"What if you don't?" I asked nervously.

"I neva' break a promise." With that he slid down and swung into the window. I crouched down and unhappily lowered myself over the ledge. I swung my legs into the window and let go of the ledge, but the top have of my body was still outside. I was ready to scream before plummeting to my death but two arms reached out and snatched me from the air.

"Told ya," Spot whispered. He lowered me and then turned back to Spencer. He watched us carefully making me self conscience.

"So," Spencer began, "What gives me da pleashah of havin' you in me presence, Spot?"

Spot smirked, seeing that Spencer was trying to warm up to him.

"I'se just wonderin' if you'se had any involvement wid Bronx activities lately."

Spencer looked up with a flash in his eyes.

"Aw you accusin' me of helpin' do'es street rats?" His voice was rising and sounded more like a child throwing a tantrum.

"You an' youh boys aw known for yer craftiness . . . and your knives." Spot's hand was resting innocently on his cane, rubbing the golden top.

"Well, dat is true." The boy pulled out a dagger from his shirt pocket. It looked in good condition. "Heah, why don't ya look at dis up close." Spencer handed it to me delicately. It was a nice wooden handle that was smooth and was easy to grip. The blade was a shiny metal that had elegant carvings. The letter "S" was engraved in the handle. "Me boys find scraps and make tings. We'se good at makin' tings." The boy looked proud of himself. He took the knife back and smirked at me.

Such a small boy with such a big ego. Then again, Spot showed similar qualities.

"Well, ya still haven't answered da question!" Spot was getting impatient.

"Spot, I would neva' hand one of those airheads me precious tools. Dey ain't even got da brains ta use 'em!" The boy started to sound offended. And his eyes burned at Spot angrily. "I could soak ya for accusin' me!" I looked up at Spot to see his reaction to this comment.

He merely smirked and raised his chin. "Sorry, Spencer. Dark times in Brooklyn. Hawd ta tell who's a friend."

Spencer nodded his agreement.

"Spot, ya gotta loin ta trust udda people."

"I have." Spot sounded sincere. He even spared me a quick glance, though this didn't miss Spencer's eyes.

"I'se gotta have me a tawk wid dis friend a yours one day, Spot. Anyone Spot takes wid him on meetin's like dis must be special." Spencer scanned me carefully.

"Dere ain't anytin' you'se need ta know 'bout him dat ya didn't know befoah." Spot's voice was suddenly more alert and protective.

"Well see if dat changes." The boy grinned wickedly, like he had a secret that we would find out later.

"See ya lata' Spencer. An', uh . . . sorry about da confusion."

"Shuah, Spot."

We walked down the rotted stairs silently. Spot's eyes were distant and thoughtful, so I just followed him.

"Spot?" I asked after walking down the streets for a while.

"Wha'?" he looked like he just woke up.

"Where are you going?" I realized after a while we were walking the wrong way.

"Wha? Erin! You was supposed ta tell me we was goin' ad wrong way!" He sighed in annoyance and grabbed my wrist. He began to march the other way in frustration.

"Who's doin' it, den?" he muttered to himself. "Who?"

I wish I could answer. I wish I could make his problems go away. But, this is Brooklyn.

That just isn't a reality.


	6. Part 6

I could hear Spot in the night. He was pacing in his room. The other boys were awake listening as well. Duke mentioned that Spot only paced when he was nervous.

Suddenly his moving feet paused and he groaned in annoyance, then continued pacing.

"Don't you ever try to cheer him up?" I asked feeling helpless.

"What, aw you gonna try? That would be da day. Spot being cheered up by a littul goil."

I narrowed my eyes at Duke and he grinned.

"Well ya'ar!"

Le Maitre sat upright, grinning himself silly.

"Voila!"

Duke rolled his eyes and sighed. "what now Maitre?" Le Maitre grinned and moved over to my bunk. He slyly swung an arm over my shoulder with an excited look.

"I know a wey zat we can cheer Spot up!"

"What?" I asked in excitement.

"A romantique evening wiz a beeyutiful mademoiselle." After a few seconds I figured out what he meant.

"Why do you always come up wid lousy ideas?" Duke spoke annoyed. He playfully smacked Le Maitre in the shoulder.

Le maitre simply grinned at me, making me feel self conscience.

"Spot's in battle mode, he would be interested in girls anyways." Flames notes, sliding onto my bunk as well. I began to feel crowded, but in a friendly way. It was like having my brothers back.

My brothers.

Spot was like a replacement, taking care of me and giving me a home.

I wished I could do something in return.

More boys joined us and began talking around my bed.

"Hey Erin, when aw you'se gonna get a newsie name?" someone asked.

"You mean, a fake name?"

"Yeah."

I began thinking of what a good name would be.

"How about scar?" Flames suggested referring to the stretched scar on my face. "Very mysterious."

"Nah, dat'll make her feel bad!" Duke commented, "what about Dodger? Cuz ya dodge death?"

"Chocolate bon-bon?" Le Maitre suggested innocently, getting smacks on the back of the head. I chuckled. These boys were funny.

"How about sweet face?" A boy said. Everyone silently began cracking up.

"Suah," Duke snickered, "best disguise name eva'! Why don't we also put her in a dress?"

Everyone laughed harder.

"I guess we could still cawl you Erin." Flames sighed disappointedly.

At one point I must have dozed off because I don't remember what happened after that. In the morning I was still curled up snug in bed, with a blanket over me. I felt a cool hand shake my shoulder. A voice was telling me something but it came out weird. I sighed contently. I loved sleeping in. Suddenly the air through my nose stopped. I tried sniffing but began to choke. What?

I sat upright and gasped. I looked up and saw Spot draw his hand away from my nose.

I was about to yell at him but he held up his fingers to signal immediate silence. I frowned but closed my mouth. He motioned for me to follow him in a playful manner. Sighing with a grin, I followed him. He made me follow him all the way back to the docks. He went on the planks and I froze. It was cold this morning and I had no intention of going in the water.

He sensed my resistance and returned grabbing my hand to tow me over. "No, Spot, please!"

"I ain't gonna put ya in da wata'!" Spot informed. "I'se gonna teach ya ta fight propa!"

I looked at him carefully and then willingly followed him.

He stopped and then faced me. "Okay I need ya ta undastand dat even when youh losin' you can't give up. You give up when youh dead, got dat?"

I nodded and he continued.

"Now, this is how you block." He demonstrated with his arms and told to me copy. After I got it down he taught me to punch. " Form a fist like dis-No, not dat way! You'll break youh fingahs! Try like dis."

By the end of the lesson my knowledge and bruises had grown.

"Okay, let get home." Spot began walking and I followed. I wanted to express my gratitude but every time I practiced in my head it sounded bogus.

We stopped at the door.

Oh well, here it goes.

"Thank you, Spot . . . you've done so much for me, so . . . thanks."

His grey blue eyes searched me carefully they were confused and curious. But after a while he smirked and replied, "I'se a gent. I'se ready ta help any goil in need."

I rolled my eyes. "You were helping me before you even knew."

At that he was speechless. His face became thoughtful.

"Well, sometimes I help poor littul kids from Ireland dat don't know da foist ting about bein' a newsie."

I couldn't help but grin. Spot was silent on the walk back. When we got to the door Spot paused.

"Erin, could ya do me a favor."

"Sure, what?"

He looked annoyed for some reason.

"Stand away from da door."

Raising an eyebrow, I complied. Spot sure did a good job at being completely unexplainable.

He quietly turned the door knob and emotionlessly yanked it from its frame.

Suddenly a group of boys tumbled out as if they were leaning against the wood. I laughed, thinking how clever Spot was for hearing them. I would have completely not noticed.

Everyone jumped up and pretended to have no idea what just happened.

"Well wouldn't ya know, da second you two's come in we'se were plannin' ta go out?" Duke chuckled. His voice hinted to his nervousness.

"Shuah, Duke," Spot smirked, "I'se surprised, usually you boys aw bettah at hidin'. Maybe youh outta shape?"

Everyone groaned. I looked up at Spot in confusion again, but he was still grinning at the boys.

"Tonight at ten, be ready for challenge night." Everyone groaned and began blaming each other for this apparent punishment.

"What's challenge night?" I asked Spot.

"Oh you'll see. Maybe you should be in it as well."

I shrugged, getting the feeling I just gave myself a very annoying evening.

"Get ta woik, boys!" Everyone fled, Spot jogging behind them laughing, in an evil amused sort of way. I followed hesitantly watching Spot laugh and challenge people to racing to get papes.

I felt a smile reach my own lips. These boys were like my own family. I loved them so much!

Once I got my hand on papes, I decided to get chancy and took 12. Every made fun of me, for the puny stack.

"Betta hurry up, ya might not sell awl dose in time!" Duke joked, getting snickers from Flames and Le Maitre. Rolling my eyes, I shifted the papers and read the headlines.

"Butcher Claims Thief Stole Best Knives"

"Two Shippers at Brooklyn Docks Vanish in Night"

"Bronx Criminal Activities Skyrockets"

I look over the headlines twice, then three times. Everything connected, but I couldn't figure it out. Missing knives, missing shippers by the docks, Bronx crimes . . . I opened up to the missing shippers page.

_"Bernard Mullick and Daniel Penn had not returned from their duties last night after unloading boxes from a ship last night. The crates which were meant to carry gun powder and bullets were found missing as well. There are suspicions that they have fled with the materials for certain crimes. Their families are being interrogated today . . ."_

I saw a picture of both the missing men. Nothing about them looked familiar, but I was surprised by this new piece of information. Shipping material for . . . weapons. Suddenly, it all made sense. Spot was still talking to some of the boys, his papers loosely hung in his arm.

"Spot!" I called urgently. His eyes immediately locked with my own. His lips did not move, but his eyes did all of the talking- What was wrong?

"_Come here! I found something!"_ He ran over, getting confused looks from everyone.

"_What? What?"_ He looked serious and ready for action.

I quickly showed him everything I found.

He first took in the information silently, adding everything up.

"Hmm . . ." His voice became deep in thought.

"Well?" I asked impatiently, worried he might just explode from too much thinking. This wouldn't surprise me. Spot probably made his way to the top by thinking through everything. He makes plans that are so foolproof and so unthinkable that nobody cannot predict him.

"I'se tink we'se got a stakeout ta do tonight." His eyes were still somewhere else plotting.

"You mean were going to follow whoever is responsible for this?"

"Exactly." He grinned down at me, giving me the chills. It was a grin that said he had a plan and knew exactly how it would begin and end. It a grin that meant he was ready.

"Boys!" He called, getting everyone's attention. "Challenge nights gonna be anudda time. I'se got impoitant business tanight!"

* * *

That evening Spot and I snuck to the docks and hid behind an alley. We waited for what seemed like hours. Spot told me that I couldn't say a word because someone might overhear. So silently we sat, unmoving waiting for someone. The hours rolled along and I was sure that nobody was coming. Maybe Spot didn't think about everything this time. I turned to Spot and instantly put a finger up to his lips without glancing back at me.

I rolled my eyes, and he smirked in response. So he can see?

I tugged on his sleeve gently, and he impatiently turned to me. I made a gesture to show that I thought this was a no show. He shook his head and made a motion to say that there were boxes there. I nodded my understanding but used my hands to draw a big clock in the air and then made a huge circle clockwise to show how much time we've been smirked, rolling his eyes. He raised up his hand holding out 5 fingers.

The message was clear: five more minutes and we leave. I nodded and turned back to the scene in front of us. I could hear approaching the approaching clip-clops of a horse. A black beast stopped in front of the crates with a wagon attached to its harness. Two men leapt from the wagon and began loading crates into it. The darkness made their faces unrecognizable. In the middle of their work one of them quietly spoke up. "Quiet night, eh Eddie?"

"Yup," replied the other in a gruff tone.

"Don't suppose we'se gonna end up like dose guys in da pape yesterday, do ya?" The man tried sounding calm but his voice cracked in the middle.

"We might."

Even from here I could hear a distinct gulp. I watched carefully not moving my eyes or blinking.

"Well, I guess it's worth it. For da money, dat is. Old man Greener is eager ta get dis stuff in da weahhouse."

"Wheah have you been?" Scoffed the other, "He doesn't want more people stealin' his goods for crimes out in da Bronx, a 'corse he's willing ta pay a lot ta get a couple of guys to safety take it down for him!"

The other man gulped loudly.

"Well. It looks like we'se done. Now let's just—" The man never got to finish his sentence because he suddenly choked and crumpled to the floor.

"Eddie!" shouted is friend dropping down to assess the problem. He too, gasped and fell beside the silent Eddie.

"Come on, fellers, we betta hurry!"

"Dat's right, we'se don't want ta alert ta bulls!" Like silent agents, four boys took the crates and bodies loading them into the wagon and steered it away.

Spot grabbed my arm and began pulling me. We followed a good distance behind. The boys made no sound as the passed through Brooklyn into the Bronx.

Spot stopped outside the territory line.

"That explains a lot," Spot whispered. "So dis is awl ta fight me? I ain't da scary, am I?" He spoke in a joking tone, his eyes full of humor.

"Spot!" I hissed in annoyance and fear, "This isn't funny. They could really hurt someone. I think we should do something. Maybe we need help."

"Brooklyn neva asks fo' help, Erin. If anything we'se da ones dat give help."

"Spot, they have guns, and knives, and dangerous weapons. What do you have?"

"Da loyalty a' me boys."

"Are you going to watch them die for you?" I asked in an accusing tone.

"I'se gonna watch dem die wid me ta protect Brooklyn. An' dey would agree wid me."

"Fine," I sighed. "Let's go home."

The walk back was silent. The gears were turning in Spot's brain as he began planning more. I was afraid that all of my newly made friends would die because of this. They were tough, but guns and knives were tougher. Could Spot even think of a good plan for this? I turned to look at him again. His face was blank, his eyes were cold and distant. His battle face. His feet were walking in rhythm to the drums of war in his head. When we got to the lodge house I didn't even notice until Spot's hand reached out to open the door. He mechanically walked up to his room without a word.

This was serious.

When I got back to my own room everyone was in bed, supposedly sleeping. I walked past the rows of bunks noticing heads pop up watching me.

Once I sat down, I rubbed my shoeless feet, and plopped down on the creaky mattress. "I know you're all awake, what do you want?"

In a sudden quiet flurry all the boys were surrounding my bed. Concerned eyes watched me, and whispers of "what's going on, Erin?" tickled my ears.

"I can't tell you what happened or what' going on," I began. "Don't worry about it . . . yet."

There was more pleading and once the boys realized they couldn't get through to me, they gave up and went to bed.

Once everyone was sleeping again, I could hear Spot again. Pacing.

In the morning, I shivered under my sheets. The cold was coming in. I tried to remember warm summer days until I felt someone shaking me. Why was someone shaking me? It was far too early to be shaken.

"Go away," I moaned, holding on to the last moments of sleep.

"Wake up!" The shaker hissed.

"One more minute . . . hour . . ."

I heard a sigh and then the shaking stopped. I think I went back into a dream. I was being carried back into sleep. I felt the gentle rocking of arms and sighed. This was much better.

I was deep asleep.

Suddenly I was freezing and wet and drowning all at once. I tore my eyes open and saw that I was in the water. I began swimming as Spot instructed and climbed up a nearaby wooden beam. Choking and gasping I pulled myself up and lay on the dock breathing heavily.

Spot's face loomed over me seriously.

"Spot!" I spluttered, "You nearly killed me!"

"No, you nearly killed you," he corrected mysteriously, "when I wake you up you should jump out at once."

I shivered in the cold air, while noting this in my brain. "Well, now you have my full attention, what do you want?"

"I'se gonna teach ya ta block an fight wid weapons."

"Okay," I sighed sleepily, "let's go!" my enthusiasm was crushed by a loud yawn.

I could see Spot suppressing a smirk.

First we started with a sling shot. I was supposed to aim for bottles he placed on crates nearby.

Supposed to were key words. I came close but always missed.

"Try keepin' one eye closed," Spot suggested.

I did and this time came closer. "One more time!" I said in excitement. He handed me one more marble. I squeezed one eye shut and pulled back the elastic as far as I could. I aimed, and HIT!

"YES!" I cried in joy! I turned to Spot to see if he was impressed. He merely looked satisfied and then taught me the knife. I felt more comfortable with a weapon that required up close fighting. Spot showed me the proper way to wield it. I learned stabbing, deflecting another blade, and dodging.

"A real fighta' will always go unda', stab, and pull back," Spot taught, "You'se gotta take a step back and to da side." Then he taught me how to move forward and take the knife away.

The gun was last.

Spot wouldn't teach me how to use it. "Brooklyn is faih," he spoke slowly, "We don't use weapons dat kill instantly. Dere's no fight wid guns, just killin'. Brooklyn is more dan killkin'. We want ta win a propa fight."

I was touched my Spot's nobility. He was a good leader. Spot showed me how to time when to jump and dive. It was simple, you see a gun pointed at you run in a zig zag find something to hide behind and don't get hit.

"Da only way ta really know if dis guy is gonna shoot ya is by lookin him in de eyes," Spot's own grey blue eyes were serious and calling my attention. Someone who is scaihd or reluctant ta shoot will show it in de eyes. Someone who will kill you has this look in the eyes that is cold and unafraid. You watch out for dis, okay?" I nodded my understanding.

Spot then tied up the morning learning with a final lesson.

"Is this necessary?" I asked as Spot began tying my hands and and feet together.

"Yes," he replied quickly. Once he finished he stood up and grinned at his handiwork. "Now get out."

"Sure, just untie me!" I said with impatience in my voice.

"You can do it, yerself, Erin. Aw you waitin' fo' prince charmin'?"

I rolled my eyes and began pulling at the knots.

After two minutes of useless work Spot bent down close and smirked.

"So ya wanna know da secret?"

I looked up at him in annoyance. "No Spot," I groaned sarcastically, "I like being tied up helplessly." At this, he roared in laughter. I didn't see what was so funny.

Finally he calmed down and spoke with a wider smirk.

"Use youh teeth ta pull out ta knot. Or if dat don't woik use a corner a sumtin' and rub da rope against it."

I looked down at the knot. It was double tied but maybe . . . I began pulling with my teeth and after a long time I pulled apart the first knot. I began working on the second one.

I was free by the time the sun was almost completely risen.

"Good woik," Spot complimented.

"Thank you."

Spot put all of the weapons and rope into a burlap sack. I felt so different from the first time I met Spot. I felt stronger. A strong hand was held in front of my face. It belonged to Spot.

"Need a hand?" he asked. I smiled a little and took it, allowing him to pull me up.

As we began another walk to the lodge house Spot spoke up.

"By da way, nothin' makes me mornin' like youh sleep tawkin'."

"My sleep— What?" I exclaimed startled, "I sleep talk?" He grinned at me like a child with a secret.

"What aw ya worried about?" He asked slyly, "Sometin' on youh mind ya don't wanna share?"

I felt my face flush. "No!" I spoke quickly. "What have I said?"

"Nuttin' really," he assured me, "ya mostly talk to youh family and yell at me when I wake ya up."

"What do I say?" I asked curiously.

"Ya say stuff like, '_don't die' _and '_pick the potato's yourself, lazy_'."

"No, I mean what do I yell at you?"

He smirked, looking forward. "You just tell me it's too early, an' say I'm so annoyin' draggin' you out heah to fight." He looked thoughtful and then spoke up again, "why do ya wanna know?"

"I just want to make sure I'm doing a good job at it, even in my sleep."

His laugh following this was chilly. "You know, I should soak ya for sayin' stuff like dat. I soak every newsie dat insult's me."

"You wouldn't be able to lay your hands on me, remember?" I replied, recalling our first fight.

"True," he answered, "but sometin' else holds me back, maybe it's just pity."

"Pity?" I echoed in annoyance, "what's there to pity?"

"Well—youh completely clueless widout me, youh a goil foiced ta pretend ta be a boy, an' you can't sell pape's for youh life."

Humor had once again returned to Spot. How aggravating.

"Spot Conlon I could—"

My threat was interrupted as we neared the lodge house and all the boys came up to us loudly running up.

Spot laughed and went to join the boys, giving me a final smirk. I rolled my eyes as he stopped the lallygagging and sent them all the get papers.

I followed behind noticing Spot slowing down to my pace.

"Erin, a few more tings," he said in a hushed tone, "tanight, I'se gotta tawk wid you about me plan so come home on time, also stay outta trouble and stay away from da Bronx. And lastly, no matta what happens don't let anyone know youh a goil. Dat'll make ya look like an easy target, is dat awl cleah?"

"Crystal."

"Good goil." He rushed back in the front, throwing me one of his famous smirks over his shoulder. Typical Spot.

I took twelve papers and flipped through them. Nothing interesting. Something told me today was going to be a bad day. I unenthusiastically sold my papers, following my favorite group of Duke, Le Maitre, and Flames.

Usually it was worse to sell in groups but these boys didn't mind.

Around noon I had sold seven papers. My stomach began grumbling.

"Do you guys mind if I get something to eat?" I asked.

"Go ahead," Flames answered.

"Yeah, we'll catch up soon," Duke added.

I went off to a nearby bakery and stepped inside. The sweet smell of pastries filled the air.

"Can I help you?" A stout woman who looked really unhelpful frowned down at me.

"Yes, um, how much are the rolls?"

"Three cents," she answered between two thin bloodless lips.

"I'll take one." She put the stalest one on the counter, making a distinct crack against the marble top. I passed her my three cents and took the roll.

"Thank you," I called over my shoulder. She waved in a stern manner while picking up my money.

I began to nibble on the crust because chewing wasn't an option. At least, this way I could savor the taste.

I was sitting outside the bakery directly under the sun. This was pleasant, I thought to myself.

"Hey you!" I looked up and saw three boys walking up to me. They were unfamiliar, dressed in raggedy clothes. Their eyes were cold and suspecting.

"Yeah?" I was worried they wanted my roll, and clung tighter to it.

"Aw you Erin Collins?" I looked at them carefully, Suspicion filled me.

"Why?"

"Hey we asked a question foist!" another boy responded.

"Yes, I'm Erin, why?" I asked impatiently.

The boys looked at each other and then back at me.

"Youh commin' wid us ta meet someone," the first boy answered quietly.

"Says who?" I demanded feeling annoyance rise in my chest.

"Says me," he answered. In his hand was a small hand gun pointed at my stomach.

"I see your point." I put the roll in my pocket and allowed the boys to direct me.

"Do you work for the Bronx, then?" I asked cautiously.

"Just keeping movin'." He prodded me in the back, which pretty much kept me quiet the entire trip. I was held my breath when crossing the territory line.

We made our way through different streets filled with people watching unsuspectingly. The gun was hidden behind my back, everything seemed so innocent.

Finally we turned into the same small bar that Spot took me too. The old man was gone but inside at one seat, sat the infamous Shadow. Across from him was another boy. One that looked very familiar.

"Blink!" I spoke confused. He looked up at me happily and then gave Shadow a satisfactory smile.

"Tanks," he said to Shadow, walking up to me.

"What's going on?" I demanded, eyeing Kid Blink, what was he doing here?

"I'll explain latah," he replied.

"Rememba'," Shadow called, "not a woid."

"Yes," Blink replied darkly, "I'se know."

Once we were outside I glared at Blink. "Are you going to explain yourself?"

"Sh!" he hissed, "wait until we're back in Manhattan!" I looked over my shoulder and noticed some people were watching. I walked fast, forcing him to match my speed.

Once we crossed the bridge I turned and glared at him. "What are you thinking? Do you know what you're doing?"

"I just saved youh life!" He relied in the same tone.

"Why are you working with Shadow?"

"He said if I gave him information on wheah ta get weapons he'd get you back. Did you ever think that maybe he was using the weapons to massacre all the Brooklyn newsies?"

"Spot kidnapped you anyways." Blink looked offended or some reason.

"Spot was good to me, Blink." His eyes dropped. Now I could see he was really hurt. "Listen, I missed you boys, but Spot saved me. I owe him my life. I can't just have what I want all the time and neither can you."

He looked ashamed now, realizing his error.

"I'se sorry, I just felt so bad fo' ya. I couldn't imagine Spot treatin' ya nice, so I'se thought . . ."

"I get it, Blink," I replied.

"Please stay?" his requested was made with desperation.

"I can't, I'm loyal to Spot now."

"I saved youh life too!"

I paused in surprise. He was right, He did save my life.

He could see that this had an effect on me. "Erin, why would ya wanna stay dere? Spot's cold hearted. He saved ya ta use ya! Wid us you have a family."

That was a lie. Brooklyn was my family.

"Blink, you were my first real friend, but Spot has become so much a part of me I can't leave him. He—" I wanted to say he needed me, but that wasn't true. Spot didn't need anyone.

"I owe him so much more." I finished.

"Fine, den," Blink spat, "I can see whose side youh on. It's youh suicide, dough."

I recoiled at his venom but then shrugged.

"Thank you . . . for the thought, that is." I was about to give him a hug, but knew that this was very unboy-like behavior, Instead I patted his shoulder while walking past him.

I began walking back through Brooklyn making a direct path for the lodge house. I had to move quickly, avoiding obvious paths. The Bronx were probably waiting for me to come through.

I could see it up ahead. I was home free. I made a dash for the lodge house, not looking back. I felt something crash into me from the side.

How unexpected, I thought to myself as pain came to my side. I thought an attack would come from behind me. I tried to look up but my attacker shoved my face into the ground.

Something hit me in the head and I was out like a light.

Upon awakening the first thing I was aware of was the throbbing pain in my head.

The second thing I was aware of was that my arms were tied behind me.

And lastly, I noticed I was in a room with someone watching me. Shadow was in the shadows. How fitting.

"Welcome back," he said with absolutely no welcome in his voice.

"Uh-oh."

"You could say sat again." I was tempted to repeat just because he said that but my anger flared up.

"What do you want Shadow?"

He smirked in such a cold manner, he almost put Spot to shame.

"I knew you would come back. I'm usin' you as bait ta get ta Conlon. Once dat Hattan aihhead told me he would help me everytin' was so simple. I would kidnap you ta get Conlon. Gettin' da weapons was merely a way to scahe his friends so dey would eidda stay outta me way or join me once Conlon was dead. Fool proof, no?"

"Who said Conlon would come?" I asked, "I'm nothing special to him."

"But you know things, don't ya? You spend more time wid him, and he doesn't want his littul secrets ta get out, does he?"

"Who said they would?"

"We have ways of makin' people tawk," He whispered cruelly.

"I have ways of staying quiet," I shot back.

"We'll see. In da mean time, we'se waitin' for Conlon."

I clenched my fists. This was not what Spot expected at all.


	7. part 7

Spot Conlon POV:

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

My fingers were getting tingly from being tapped against the table all night.

Where was Erin?

I went over my plan in my head while waiting for her, and now I have it perfected and memorized.

So where is that girl?

She better have a good reason to be late.

I could feel the boys' stare on me. They knew I was growing impatient. They weren't even joking around as they usually did.

This was taking too long for me.

"I'm going out," I announced.

A breath blew out of everyone. Spot never went after someone unless he was upset. And nobody would try to upset Spot. Well, except for certain Bronx leaders who didn't know their place.

I cracked my knuckles and went outside. I couldn't see hair nor hide of Erin and she's three hours late.

Where could she be? I imagined her dangling from the Brooklyn bridge again. That would be typical Erin, for sure. I began strolling leisurely, checking the area for a small clueless girl dressed as a boy.

Nothing. How annoying.

I imagined how I would react once I found her. Maybe I'll grab her by the collar, shove her up against a wall and demand to know why she would dare be late. Scaring her ought to put her in line.

But . . . it just isn't like her. Why would she be late? What if, something happened . . . no! She's tough. Of course, she's fine.

I heard someone coming up behind me. Turning swiftly, I whipped out my cane. "Who is it?"

A small scrawny boy with an awful hunch came up to me from the shadows.

"Spot Conlon?" he rasped.

"Who wants ta know?" I demanded with authority.

"Shadow wanted me to send you a message."

Oh really? I thought.

"He's got a package fo' you. A littul boy. An' if ya want it meet him at the territory line tomorrow morning. And ya bettah be alone or else," he then made a movement with his hand crossing over his neck to show that someone was gonna die.

"You tell him, I'll be dere." I spoke in an undertone and left the boy.

I felt my blood pulsing in my anger.

He's got Erin! Erin was valuable. She held information. And if he were to find out she was a girl!

My plans were invalid with out her.

I felt sick to my stomach. What were they going to do with her?

Erin POV:

In the early morning, something cold hit my face. I yelped and shook my head. Ice water was dripping off my chin.

"Mornin'!" chirped shadow. Looking at him for too long annoyed me so I looked back down at my feet.

""Taday's da day," he continued, "da day wheah Spot Conlon falls!" He laughed loudly as he picked me up by my hands which were still tied behind me. I spent all night rubbing them against the corner of the wall but it wasn't sharp enough. I had rope burns on my wrists now, dripping blood.

I blinked back sunlight when we walked outside. My stomach began churning.

What was Spot going to do? He couldn't have possibly made a plan for this . . . could he?

We walked agonizingly slow, like some sort of funeral march.

Shadow walked in a warlike fashion that was similar to Spot's only less cocky. He had a determined stride.

I tried to formulate a plan. Okay, Erin, I thought. What do we know. We know that Shadow is approaching the territory line with me and a knife towards Spot who was most likely unprepared for anything . . .

Brilliant.

My hands were falling asleep behind me, but I could not help that, since they were still tied.

Suddenly, I was struck with a brilliant idea. It was stupid but worth a try.

"What aw ya doin'?" hollered Shadow, kicking me. I allowed myself to fall to the ground, a faked fainting spell.

"Wake up!" He yelled, kicking more. I let out a groan.

"Help," I moaned, "I'm so tired."

He grabbed me by the shoulders but I "stumbled" on the way up twisting the other way. I fell down again and my hand caught on the pocket to his dark overcoat.

"Sorry! The sun . . ." I looked up at the bright innocent sphere, grinning.

"Well get ahold of yerself or I'll drag ya by da neck." Shadow grunted to himself and continued. I couldn't help but smile as I felt the smooth handle of a knife.

As if noticing something wrong he glared at me.

"Don't expect ta make it outta heah alive. Spot an' you aw gonnas." His threat was nothing.

But I decided to play it up.

"Dear me! Spare my soul! I can't die so young!" I sobbed to him while turning the handle upside down and moving it up and down against my bonds.

He laughed wickedly and continued walking satisfied that I was scared.

We made it to the territory line. Spot was leaning against a street lamp, suave as always. His cool eyes flashed at us with simple acknowledgment. I couldn't help but smile. Now that I could see him I felt calm.

"Hello Spot," Shadow spat pleasurably.

"Shadow," he spoke nonchalantly, "I see ya have a very impointant friend a' mine."

"Yeah, what ya gonna do 'bout it Conlon?"

"Well, I'se gonna ask ya ta toin him ova' ta me."

"I'd ratha' not, Spot. Ya see, I'se not really fond of you, so I'd ratha' not give ya yer littul friend heah, I actually have udda plans wid him."

Spot narrowed his eyes.

I felt sweat drip from my brow. I was worried that Shadow would figure out I took his knife. The rope was almost cut. I just needed Spot to buy me some time.

"Well, what if we had a trade?" Spot hissed.

"Depends on what yer talkin' bout."

"Me fo' him."

"No!" I yelled while still cutting. Why is he so stupid? "Spot, you can't. I'll be fine!" I tried making eye contact. I'm going to escape! I screamed in my head.

His eyes met mine and his head nodded for a slight second.

"Well . . ." Spot trailed off taking a step forward.

Snip.

It was off. I stepped closer to Shadow preparing for action.

"What if da tables toined?" Spot finished. Perfect.

I raised the knife up to Shadow's neck pressing against the skin.

"How'd you—?"

"The question is," Spot interrupted, "Will you live to find out?"

"Ok," Shadow snarled, "What'd ya want?"

Spot leaned his face in, glaring. "I want you ta leave. Ya leave me boys alone an' Brooklyn. I want ta neva' see youh stinkin' mug again, ya got dat?"

Shadow made a deep guttural sound. I was tense for a response.

"Fine!" he grumbled. I pulled my knife back. He straightened up and left.

I turned to Spot and laughed, "Hah! That was brilliant!"

"Thank you, nice escape method."

"I try." I smiled rubbing my wrists. He looked down at the raw skin.

"Did he do this?" his voice was quietly heated in suppressed anger.

"Well, some of it. It was mostly me trying to escape." I chuckled quietly.

"I changed me mind. I'm killin' him now." Spot took the knife out of my hands and walked the other way.

"Stop Spot!" I grabbed him and he snarled.

"He deserves it!"

"Forget about it, Spot. It's over. Done. It doesn't matter anymore." I knew if he really wanted to he could pull out of my grip. He glared down for a second and then cooled off.

"Fine," he said uncaringly. He began heading back home.

I followed in relief.

When we got home there was another surprise awaiting us.

Blink stood by the door nervously twisting his cap in his hands. I could see Duke, Flames, and le Maitre surrounding him with suspecting eyes. He looked up at me in relief getting a throaty groan from Spot.

"What is dat one eyed Hattan boy doin' heah?" Spot's territorial side never fails to make an appearance, does it?

"Um," how do I put this delicately. He was in on the plot to destroy you and tried kidnapping me back. That would go smoothly.

"Erin?" his voice was accusational.

"Erin! I'm so glad your safe!" Blink called running up to me.

Idiot.

"Blink get out of here." He paused, wounded by my cold response.

"Erin, I'm sorry, I just—"

"I don't care! You did something unforgivable. We aren't on friendly terms any more so I advice you leave before I soak you." My tone was calm yet the words harsh. I was picking up from Spot quickly.

"What did he do, Erin?" Spot demanded. I could hear his annoyance at not knowing something I did.

"Later," I snarled, still facing Blink.

"I guess dis means we ain't friends no more," Blink noted with a sharp tone. His eye was cold and distant.

"I guess so."

"I guess dat's what I get fo' helpin' a guy." With that he made an exit, making an effort to knock into me on his way.

"Why I oughta—" Spot raised a first, ready to turn, but I stopped it.

"Leave him," I sighed, "it's nothing."

"What was 'e talkin' about, Erin?"

I explained in a collective voice, letting Spot know every detail. When I finished he stared coldly in the direction of Blink's exit.

"Time for someone ta die," he whispered, eyes narrowed.

"Spot, just leave him. I don't think he deserves to die."

"You're just protecting him because ya like him. Dat's okay, You'll get ova' him once he's six feet unda'."

I blocked Spot again glaring into his face. "I don't _like_ him! I don't think he deserves to die. So just drop it Conlon!"

He looked fairly calm for a surprising outburst. I wasn't going to drop this until I was positive he was not going to kill.

"Geez Erin, what got your knickers in a knot?" he asked, smirking a little.

I rolled my eyes.

"My first friend just betrayed me and my best friend wants to kill him."

Spot narrowed his eyes, cocking his head a little.

"What?" I asked irritably.

"When did I become youh best friend?" he asked sounding impressed.

"When you saved my life and I started going around with you on dangerous missions," I replied quickly.

He threw his head back and laughed loudly.

"I don't think anything I said was funny."

He laughed louder.

I sighed in annoyance and went inside. The three at the door followed.

"What happened Erin? Ya neva' came home last night," Flames asked curiously.

"Just running errands for Spot."

There were no more questions. Spot came in with a huge smirk on that could almost be labeled a grin.

"Hey Erin, come heah fo' a second."

"Will you ever let me sleep, for one minute?" I asked in frustration, rising from my seat anyways. He snorted but beckoned for me all the same.

"Will ya go on annuda mission tonight?"

"Does it involve boys with weapons. And dangerous schemes that could kill me?"

He thought this over seriously.

"Yeah, it probably will."

"Count me in."

He flashed a grin and me, while throwing an arm over my shoulder.

"We'se got woik ta do, kid."

"I'm not a kid," I grumbled.

He leaned forward and started laughing again.


	8. part 8

Spot was absolutely brilliant. That didn't change the fact that he was irritating. It was late at night and I was in the water hiding under the dock. I had an awful suspicion that there was something rubbing against my leg.

"Come on, Spot!" I hissed to myself.

He told me that he was trying to settle something with someone. He refused to say who or what he was planning. He laid out a plan, and I was to follow it.

The water was dropping in temperature and rising in scariness.

Spot is going to pay, I thought through chattering teeth.

I heard the board above me squeaking. Someone was approaching me.

"What do ya want, Spot?" A voice asked, fear evident.

I grinned. This was going to be fun. Thanks Spot!

"I'se want ta know about Blink."

I froze, (not from the cold, that already happened.) It was in shock.

"Waddaya wanna know, Spot?"

I narrowed my eyes, trying to peek through the slats.

That voice was so familiar . . .

"I wanna know what he knows about Erin, an' what he's been doin'."

"I wouldn't know." replied the boy.

"Oh really, because dis five dollahs in me hand says uddawise." I could hear Spot waving a small bill around. Only Spot, I thought.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell ya!" the voice was starting to get eager. "E' was goin' in an out a Brooklyn and da Bronx. Lately he's been stayin' home. But he keeps sayin' dat you went too fah takin' Erin away like dat. An' no offense, I'se agree. He's just a littul kid. He don't fit in wid youh clan."

"Have ya eveh seen him fight?" Spot asked quietly.

The stranger paused thinking.

"No."

"Dat boy could take out awl a 'Hattan, widdout battin' an eye." Spot said, with a hint a pride in his voice. But mostly his voice was filled with threat.

"Look at ya, Spot. Fashionin' him inta' a weapon. He had a family wid us."

"He has a family heah!"

"Yeah, a bunch a muttonheads!"

"Ya wanna repeat dat, Race?"

Racetrack! I leapt up in on cue, smacking my head into the wood. Race jumped in surprise.

"What was dat?"

I could almost hear Spot's smirk form.

"Well, I wasn't gonna tell ya dis, but a few yeahs ago annaduh 'Hattan Newsie was buggin' me. He tried ta strike me, but he was too slow an he fell ta his watery grave."

Spot, of course, would end with a dramatic ending.

Racetrack gulped loudly.

"Sometimes," continued Spot ominously, "he tries ta come back . . . sometimes I let him take a friend back down wid him. Maybe I'll let him take you."

I banged loudly on the wood as prearranged. I hated doing this to a friend but orders are orders.

"Spot!" he yelped, "Stop dat ting! I'se gotta life ahead a me!"

"I dunno," Spot replied. "Aw ya gonna tell da boys?"

"I promise not ta tell!"

Spot stamped on the wood as a signal to stop.

I happily complied.

"Bye Race," he whispered wickedly. The exiting footsteps were gone before you could blink.

I went to the edge and climbed over.

"Spot you are really, really, _really_ a pain in the—"

"Uh-uh! Carefoil now, don't go usin' language not propa' for a lady!" Spot tisked.

"Why would you do that to Racetrack? We're friends!"

"No you awen't," he said confidently.

"Yes," I hissed, "we are!"

"I'se youh leadah, an what I says goes."

"Well, I don't agree!"

Spot marched up so our noses were touching. All this happened so fast my breath was caught in my throat.

His lip twitched fighting a grin.

"Too bad." His hands were on my shoulders and I was back in the water.

"Spot!" I yelled between waves. I could hear him laughing above.

I managed to grab the edge of the dock, gasping. Clutching his side from laughing, he bent down so our faces were close.

"So whaddaya have ta say ta me, goil?"

"I'll tell ya what I have ta say," I grabbed his shoulders, pulling him in with me.

He probably could have fought me, but he allowed himself to crash in the water with me. He popped up, and spat water at me.

"Gross!"

Smirking he grabbed me and wrapped his arms around me so I couldn't escape.

"Ey! Leggo!" I gasped trying to fight him and swim at the same time.

"Not until ya apologize," he grunted, trying to keep me from squirming.

"Never!" I cried, pulling. His body was uncomfortably close to mine, and I didn't like the way he was holding me.

"Spot!" I cried, fearing he would actually not let me go.

"Say it!"

I twisted so I was facing him in his strong embrace. He looked a little surprised. I felt determined to escape without apology.

An idea formed in my mind. It was risky, but worth a try.

I stopped all struggling and fell forward so my cheek rested on Spot's shoulder.

Fake fainting, just like with Shadow.

"What aw ya doin'?" Spot asked, not amused.

I couldn't help but notice the muscles in his shoulder as he shifted him weight.

I waited for his grip to loosen.

For a beat I thought he wasn't buying it, but miraculously he pulled his arms back trying to turn me over.

In a flash, I zipped away, I made a water dash to the docks.

"Oh, no ya don't!" Spot took off after me. I couldn't tell if he was playing around or if he was seriously angry. I wasn't going to stick around to find out.

My hands reached the damp wood. I pulled myself up, creating a distance between Spot and me.

I was safe! I began running down the docks by feet slapping the boards in my rush.

I was at the end, a breath of relief washed through me.

Just got to get back to the lodge house, I thought gleefully.

Suddenly, out of the shadows jumped a dripping figure, who did not look too pleased.

"Wha? How did you get here so fast?" I demanded, surprised.

"Don't change da subject," he growled.

"Nobody pushes _me _in the water. Got dat?"

"Yup," I replied in a small voice.

We stood facing each other for a long time. I began feeling really awkward, just watching him glare.

"Sooo, now what?" I asked, hoping he'd stop glaring.

He rolled his eyes and smirked, "let's get home, aw business heah is finished."

* * *

Mornings are a delicate thing, and if started too early the rest of the day will be dreadful.

For some reason Spot just doesn't get this.

I knew someone was trying to wake me up. I had this feeling. I groaned and batted at the person to back off.

"G'away!" I moaned, shifting.

"OW!" someone cried. I rolled over. That was their problem.

I could hear some other people laughing. There was more talking but I couldn't make it out.

"Go away," I repeated.

"She hit me nose!" Someone exclaimed nasally.

I blinked and sat up.

"Wha' 'appened?" I groaned tiredly.

I saw Spot over me, smirking like he was trying to hold back laughter and Duke, holding his nose like someone . . . just punched him.

"Did I do that?" I asked Spot, pointing my thumb at Duke.

"Yeah," he snickered.

"Oh." I looked at Duke again, who seemed, merely surprised. "Sorry, Duke!" I said trying to sound sincere.

"Shuah," he took his hands away and luckily there was no blood.

I sighed, what a way to start a morning.

Once Duke was out of the room Spot chuckled. "Youh not a moi'nin' poi'son, aw ya?"

"You think?" I asked sarcastically.

When we got to the circulation office I found Duke standing in line, with a frown on his face.

"Duke!" I called. He turned at his name and frowned deeper upon seeing me.

"Erin?" he sounded scared and upset.

"Hey, I was uh, wondering if you wanted to sell with me today?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Promise not ta soak me?"

"Promise," I replied solemnly.

A grin spread across his face, "Ya gotta deal!"

Once we both got our papers I began walking with him. He was pretty good at selling. I watched him sell his 50, while staring at my sad little pile in my own hand.

He of course was impressive with words. He made even the worst headline sound like a "must read". His vocabulary was so great, he didn't have to "improve the truth" he merely used words no else understood.

I barely made it to my last paper. Part of the problem was selling near Duke. He took all the competition. But I guess I looked pretty pitiful. When I sold to a group of girls with their knitting baskets I could overhear one of them as I was leaving.

"What happened ta his face?" one girl asked.

"That's a nasty lookin' scar, 'e's got, dere," another said, "Such a shame, since da rest a his face is so charmin'."

"I only bought his paper, 'cuz I felt bad for da bloke."

They all murmured agreement.

I glared at my feet while walking away.

Duke noticed my mood.

"Ey, whassa matta, kid?"

"I don't need anyone's pity," I hissed, clutching my last paper angrily.

He looked scared, and cautiously stepped closer.

"Listen, don't listen ta do'es goils, dey don't know you. Dey only look at people's faces and clothes. It ain't youh fault dey's a bunch a hoity-toitys."

I looked up, amused. "Thanks, Duke."

"Shuah, dat's what friends aw for."

We finished selling and went down to the docks.

Even though it was cold the boys sat with their feet in the water laughing and splashing around. I sat amongst them enjoying the company I was keeping.

Spot sat, like a king, high above atop crates. His nose was held high and his piercing gaze looked over everything.

The scene was almost perfect, I felt truly at home. But the perfect image was shattered by four words.

"Collins, get ova' heah!" Spot called down expressionlessly.

Sighing, I climbed up to him and leaned on my elbows looking up. "Yes, your majesty?"

He looked entertained by the title.

"I'se gotta job fo' ya. Do ya rememba' wheah Spencer's turf is?"

I racked my memory and had a hazy idea of where to go. "Yeah, why?"

Spot held out a crumpled note to me while leaning back in his throne. "Take dis to Spencer."

I was surprised he wasn't accompanying me, but I didn't argue. "Aye Aye, sir."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Hurry, I want dis in his hands in da next five minutes."

I jumped down from the crates with the note.

" 'An one mo' ting," Spot called, "Don't you open it!"

I didn't even consider it until now. "Alright!"

I ran quickly through the streets to the corner where Spot and I were attacked.

A shadow intercepted me.

"Scuse me, what brings ya heah on Spencer's turf, kid?" A rough voice demanded.

"Hear ta deliver a message from Spot."

"Not anymore. Get out befoah I soak ya!"

"How about _you_ get out of _my_ way before I soak_ you_?"

"You littul—" He threw a quick punch at me but missed when I darted out of the way.

I got him in the eye and then cut his cheek.

It was clear who was going to win this fight. This boy might be stronger but I was faster and more skilled.

"Enough," a young voice called.

I looked up mid swing at Spencer who was watching with interest. It was a peculiar sight, seeing a child watch me beat his own friend up as though it were fascinating.

I straightened up and held out the note.

"A message from Spot." I explained. He stared at the note blankly, and took it from my fingers, bloody from fighting.

I began to leave but was interrupted by his voice, "Stay." He firmly ordered.

I turned and watched him open the note.

He read over it and looked up at me. "Have you read dis?"

"No." I hoped that he would tell me the contents of the letter.

"Good. Now, tell Spot dat I will be me own representative this year."

In confusion, I nodded my head and prepared to leave again. "One more thing!"

I turned again to see his eyes alight with curiosity, "Tell Spot, I'd like ta see some a' his new boys out dere, it's tirin' ta see da same ones."

I nodded and took off. This was the strangest message I've ever heard. What did it mean?

When I got back to the docks the other boys left but Spot was still there.

"Well?" he asked patiently. I repeated Spencer's message, waiting for a logical answer.

Spot was smirking when I was finished.

"Oh boy, is he in fo' a surprise."

"What's happening, Spot?"

Each yeah ta prove which pawt a Brooklyn is best we have a fight, a tournament if ya will. Da winner get awl da glory and one special ting from each fighta'.

"So this is between you and Spencer?" I asked.

"An' Chrisopher."

"Whose that?"

"Pray you neva' meet him besides in this competition. He's known fo' his special line a woik."

"Which is . . . ?"

"He specializes in becoming close to a poi'son. Gets ta know dem real well, and den da minute ya tink youh safe, he stabs ya in da back. Literally. He'll do da job fo' money usually, but sometimes if someone really hits a noive . . ."

"So is he also representing himself?" I gulped.

"Yeah, but no worries, killin' is not allowed, ya only have ta have the person on da ground fo' seven seconds."

"Well, who are you sending from us?"

I considered Spot going himself, it would be very like Spot to show off.

"You," he answered calmly. In a second my hands grew sweaty and my heart accelerated.

"Me?" I asked surprised, "I'm a newbie! I can't fight."

"Youh da best I'se eva' seen, even befoah me lessons. An' don't worry, ya won't die."

"What if I lose?"

"We'se hasn't lost fo' yeahs, an' I don't plan to dis yeah."

I squirmed uncomfortably. "Can I forfeit?" I asked meekly.

"No."

"I didn't think so."

"Wha's a matta? Aw ya worried about bein' watched? Don't worry it's only da t'ree competitiors, dere boroughs, and Manhattan."

"Manhattan? Why them?" I asked confused.

"Dey like making bets. 'Specially Race. He can't resist money."

I felt like fainting. So I was going to die in front of all my ex-friends. Lovely.

"When's this tournament?"

"Tomorrow."

"What? Well why didn't you tell me before?"

"I t'ought ya might get noivous."

"I am now!"

"Oh well. You'll do fine, just don't panick."

"I'm panicking!" I replied in a shrill voice.

He smirked at me and I began feeling dizzy.

"Hey Erin?" he called snapping me out of my panic mode.

He swung a fist at me which I smoothly ducked from.

Before I could protest he spoke, "I'se don't tink ya have anytin' ta worry about, kid."

He began walking away to the lodge house.

"Gee thanks, I'm sure you'll regret saying that when you're at my funeral."

He didn't hear me.

What was I going to do?


	9. part 9

When I got to the bunks no one spoke to me. I guess I probably had an air of danger around me. Maybe it was because I was furious at Spot for volunteering me, maybe it was because when I tried pumping water to wash the blood off my fingers I accidentally broke the pump, tearing it out.

Oops.

Well anyways, I was upset that now I was being watched from a distance. Duke came up to me cautiously, ready to turn around if I got annoyed.

"Eya, Erin, I'se want ta tawk wid ya." He looked nervous like he was doing something wrong.

"What?" I asked curiously.

"Well," he sat down beside me on my cot, "I'se just wanna give ya some advice when fighting tamarrow."

I nodded and waited. He held his hands together like he was going to pray. "One: don't underestimate Spencer. He's fast, almost as fast as Spot and he is dangerous wid a knife."

Something about Spencer made me nervous every time I was near him. It was like he was older than he appeared. Anyways, this just made me feel more nervous to fight him.

"Seriously, Erin, don't feel bad about beatin' up a kid, You'll be lucky if ya leave a fight wid him alive."

Gee, thanks I thought. I knew what he meant though so I just nodded.

"An' wid Christopher, I'se warnin' ya do not trust him under any circumstances. Honestly, he's da woist. Watch out for knives an' don't let him fool ya. He's vicious."

I nodded again.

"This is going to be a big fight then, huh?" I sighed feeling sick to my stomach.

"Don't be ridiculous," Duke argued, "it'll be a big blood bath."

"You're really not helping with the whole comforting thing."

"Hey, I was saying you'd be killin ev'ry one."

"Me?"

"Yeah, youh an amazin' fighta'!"

"Er, well thanks but my competition—"

"Is history," he finished. I rolled my eyes and punched him in the shoulder.

"Rest up," he advised. "Tamorrow's da big day!"

"Urg," I groaned. He chuckled and patted my back while rising.

I barely slept a wink and when the sun started coming I tried getting a few moments of sleep.

The predictable touch of Spot's hand to awake me was irritating.

I sat up blearily and stared straight into his cool grey blue eyes.

"Just. Five. Minutes. Is that too much for you? Five. Minutes. I'm going to die today so I'd appreciate a little bit of rest."

He watched with attention as though I were passing on information not raving in my exhaustion.

"Okay," he answered with a straight expression. His eyes were unreadable as usual.

I fell back on my pillow and was out cold.

I wrestled in my sleep, fighting a shadow. Probably preparing for the fight.

Too soon, the same hand shook my shoulder gently.

"Spot, I said five minutes!" I moaned.

"I gave ya thirty," he answered calmly.

What? I sat up only to find I was no longer in my bed. Spot had carried me to the docks. I noticed we surrounded by a hoard of boys I've never seen in my life.

"Spot? Why are we at the docks?"

"Fo' da fight, Erin. Don't tell me ya foigot." I think he was trying to be funny.

"Why here?"

"Da last winner gets ta choose the next fightin' arena. An we'se always win."

I felt the pressure rise. Great so now I have to keep up some sort of tradition of winning?

A familiar face approached grinning ear to ear.

"Eya Erin, long time no see," Racetrack greeted, eying Spot with reverence.

"Hi Race, how are you?"

"Not bad. Ready ta make some money. Just checkin' ta see if youh ready."

"Well I just woke up, but I suppose any time is good as always."

"Dat's da spirit," he chuckled. I could see him hesitate as though he'd like to say more, but Spot cleared his throat loudly.

"Let da games begin," he said, cuing Race to leave.

I stood up yawning and stretching. Twisting to face Spot I stuck my tongue out at him.

"So was I heavy?"

"It wasn't da foist time I carried ya," he replied.

"Last time I was spilling me blood all over you," I shot back.

"True," he grinned, "but you happen ta be a light poi'son an' I happen ta be a strong one."

Arrogant as always.

"Wish me luck?" I asked.

"_You have the luck o' the Irish, kid."_ It felt good to hear him speak our language. It made him remind me of home.

Before I could stop myself I leaned forward and hugged him tightly.

"_Thank you!"_

When I pulled back he was looking real smug. I decided that I'd let this one go because I was worried I'd throw up from the fear.

I began to make my way to the wooden planks when I bumped into someone.

"Sorry!" we said at the same time. I snickered and yawned.

The boy looked at me curiously, "Up awl night?"

"Maybe," I yawned again. It was his turn to snicker. "Excited for the fight?" I asked tiredly.

"Yeah, I can't wait ta see Conlon's man. I heah he's a killer."

I kept a straight face and looked straight ahead. "You could say that." Boy was he going to be disappointed. "So who're you in league with?"

"Ya don't recognize me? I suppose dat's a good ting. I'm Christopher, pleasure ta be your acquaintance." He bowed politely. For the first time I looked at the person I was talking to.

I saw he was a handsome fellow with lemon colored hair and blue eyes that were warm.

I couldn't see this boy harming a fly.

"So you're fighting today?" I asked weakly.

"Dat's da plan. Glory fo' me an' me boys!"

"Hm." This boy seemed so harmless I felt bad having to fight him, but I had to remember Duke's advice.

We walked past a gang of boys wearing black jackets and pants, they wore dark expressions and had shifty glances. When Christopher and I passed them I could hear quiet "good lucks" passed.

These were Christopher's boys.

Next to them were some of Spot's boys, and at the very edge were Spencer's boys. They were sitting by the docks in peace, tossing knives back and forth and laughing.

The loudest group was up front and most recognizable. Manhattan. They weren't all there, just some of the older boys. Cowboy caught my eye and nodded. Soon a few others saw me and watched intently.

I could pick out Blink's one good eye glaring.

We got to the end of the docks. I saw Spencer at the end. Arms held behind his back confidently.

"Evenin' gents, ready for da fight?" His eyes were bored, like he thought this was an easy win.

"We'se still waitin' for Conlon's man," Christopher answered impatiently.

Spencer made eye contact with me, smirking. Creepy!

"I'se tink he's right next to you."

Christopher turned to me slowly.

"_Youh_ Spot's representative?"

"That's me."

He grinned wickedly, "Well den, sorry 'bout what I'm gonna do ta ya."

"Likewise."

He threw his head back and laughed good naturedly.

"All right, gentlemen. Da foist boys ta fight aw Spencer an' Erin. Make youh bets now, boys!"

While walking, I noticed Manahttan watch me with astonishment.

Spencer was gripping a knife in his left hand and began stepping sideways. I also took steps to the side keeping the knife in my sight as well as watching his foot position, the bend in his knees, and his eyes. In a flash, he darted at me. I reacted too slowly, and he had me pinned.

I could see a triumphant smile spread across his face as he began punching my face. I felt my nose start to bleed and my lip split. The salty rust taste of blood entered my mouth.

That was enough. I struggled beneath his scrawny grip.

I managed to throw him off and rise. In a quick fluid movement, I got him in the stomach and jaw. He flew to the ground like a rag doll. I felt a wave of horror hit me. Was he dead?

He jumped right back up and whipped the knife out. I became alert as he charged me knife pointed at my chest.

I side stepped at the last moment getting grazed at my side. I felt warm blood drip from me.

This had to end now. He turned ready to charge again but I grabbed both of his arms to his surprise and head butted him. That was stupid because it hurt my own forehead but it looked like I did the job. His eyes rolled back and he was out cold. I watched him slowly slump in my arms, his knife slipped out of his cold small hand.

The audience erupted with cheers, but I could hear Spencer's clan making hissing sounds.

Race came and raised my hand into the air only it was the arm that was next to my wound so I winced. Noticing this, he quickly dropped my hand.

I was still holding up little Spencer. Trying to be respectful, I carried him to his boys. I handed him over receiving cold glares and quiet threats.

I went back to the docks wiping blood off my face.

Racetrack handed me a cloth. I thanked him and began cleaning up. Spot went up to me while I was doing this.

"_Christopher says he want you if he wins."_ He whispered so only I could understand.

"_why me?"_ I spat blood out of my mouth.

"_You're a good fighter, Erin. Anyone would want that."_

I shrugged unconcerned. "Well I guess I better win, then."

He smirked, "I'm countin' on it."

Once I was ready to fight again, Christopher made his way to the docks.

I still could not see him being a killer.

"Ev'ryone place yer bets! Ready, set, Fight!"

"Dis might hoit a littul," Christopher warned politely.

I rolled my eyes. But I didn't realize how fast he was. I felt a good punch hit me between the eyes. My head went spinning and I fell backwards.

I knew I had to move or there'd be more of that. I rolled over avoid a fist in the stomach. I could hear his hand make contact with the wood. I rose shakily and gave him a few punches. My only problem was he was strong. They hardly hurt him. Spot told me how to deal with these boys.

As he said: da bigga' dey aw da hawder dey fawl.

I remembered how Spot had tricked me in our first fight. And then I had a brilliant plan. I went behind Christopher in a flash, confusing him. He started throwing punches at me and I began taking steps back. He didn't see that he was herding me to the edge or it would appear so.

My plan was ready until his last punch had a gleam to it. I felt a burning pain in my face.

He had reopened my scar. What nerve!

He saw my outrage and smirked. I sneered right back, taking his wrist holding the weapon.

"You die right now." I hissed. He looked startled as I pulled him hard, removing the knife from his grip and throwing him to his watery end.

His head popped out of the waves looking very displeased.

"What? Don't like wata?" he asked tauntingly.

I narrowed my eyes jumping in, knife out. I was ready to swing when he surprised me by grabbing my waist and drawing me near. It is the opposite of what you're supposed to do in a fight. He saw my confusion and grinned. I could feel something cold and sharp press against my back.

His white teeth flashed out at me.

"Seven," he whispered confusing me. "Six. Five. . ."

It hit me. The count down! I couldn't move, the knife was too close and it was slightly pointed up to prevent me from slipping down.

Damn him!

"Three," he yelled for the audience, "Two!" I tried fast thinking. Come on! Spot's going to kill me! "ONE!"

I sighed, dropping my head. Christopher released me and began swimming off.

"Coming?" he called when he saw I hadn't budged.

"No reason to. There's nothing left for me up there." I scowled into the filthy water, watching in fascination as my own blood spread around me.

He laughed warmly and grabbed my wrist. "Youh commin' wid me."

Still looking into the water, the spirit knocked out of me, I waited for him to lug me up.

I felt the sun being blocked from above me. Looking up miserably I saw Spot's blue grey eyes filled with disappointment.

There were no words to express my apologies.

Race held up Christopher's hand. "Da winner!" His call was followed by absolute silence. Even with their victory, Christopher's boys merely watched with disinterest.

I looked longingly at my Brooklyn friends, and sadly at my Manhattan friends. They all looked shocked and angry. I couldn't tell why, though.

Spot was still staring with an emotionless expression.

"So Spot, I guess I'll be leavin' wid me trophy," Christopher began not loosening him grip on my wrist.

I felt my eyes wander to Spot fearfully.

"Spo-" I began, but he cut me off.

"Christopher, how bout ya let 'im get a few a his belonging's back at da lodge house? Ya know sentimental t'ings."

I looked up at my new leader to be hopefully. He chewed on the thought carefully.

"All right, But I'se following' ya ev'ry step a da way as well as me boys."

I glanced over at Christopher's boys who some how heard everything from a distance.

Spot nodded and yanked my arm away from Christopher.

"_I've got a plan, girly." _

I had completely forgotten about speaking a different language.

We started heading to the lodge house, getting suspicious looks from Christopher.

"_Talk fast"_ I ordered nervously.

"_You can disappear. The boy you. We'll set it up and then the girl you will live on."_

"_How will I die?"_

"_I already discussed it with Doc. You're going to jump from the top window, but Doc and Duke will catch you from the bottom. Then we'll apologize to Christopher, give him something else, and we're all happy."_

"_What do I do as a girl?"_

"_We'll wing it."_

I felt nervous about the plan but what choice did I have.

We entered the lodge house quietly. I could see out of the corner of my eyes, Christopher's boys surrounding the building.

I lead Spot and Christopher upstairs to my room. The window at the end was opened, waiting. I gulped and looked into Spots eyes for a cue. He would not look up at me, he only stared off at the wall.

Christopher tapped his foot impatiently.

I went to my bed which happened to be at the end of the room. I didn't have much except a change of clothes, and some newspaper articles I found interesting.

I slowly folded them taking my time.

"Ya know," Spot's voice destroyed the silence. "We'se got udda stuff ya might be interested?"

Christopher turned to Spot annoyed.

"You know what I want, Conlon," he replied coldly. He was distracted! Quickly and stealthily I climbed through the window. I gave Spot a finally wink over Christopher's shoulder and let go of the ledge. I could hear someone yell above me, but it was too late. I felt myself land in the waiting arms of Duke and Doc quickly yanking me through the window. Then silence.

We waited. I could hear Spot trying to calm Christopher. It sounded bad.

"Quick!" hissed Doc. He shoved me into the water closet, throwing a bundle of something into my arms. It was a disguise.

I pulled off my boy clothes and threw on the white dress. I took off my hat and let down my shaggy reddish brown hair which fell a little past my shoulders. It was long enough to pass as feminine. I walked out and went to the dusty mirror. My face was still bloodied and scarred! Doc handed me a wet wash cloth to clean up with.

There were footsteps approaching.

Quickly we cleaned me up. I covered part of my face with hair to conceal my scar.

Duke and Doc gave me weak smiles and thumbs up.

The door opened and I hid in the water closet.

"Wheah is he? Wheah did he go?" Christopher demanded.

Spot walked behind him at ease. "I dunno, likely dead. I'd foiget 'bout dat boy. Always was a bit mad."

"What aw you two doin'?" Christopher demanded.

"Uh, jus' waitin' fo our friend ta finish usin' da toilet. Da rest a dem aw outta ohdah."

Duke _would_ say that.

I could hear him walk up to the door of the water closet.

"Who's in dere?"

I summoned up my most feminine voice, "Sorry mate, just finishing up me buisness!"

I could sense he was startled by my voice but quickly regained his composure.

"You owe me, Conlon" he seemed to speak from his chest.

"What do ya want?"

"I'll be back in a week to let you know, don't expect me to forget about this Conlon. No one cheats me out of anything."

I gulped quietly. Once the door slammed shut I walked out. Spot's eyes appeared tired.

quite tired.

"Spot," I whispered walking towards him.

"Erin, it ain't youh fault," Duke began comfortingly.

"Dat ain't her name," Spot interrupted.

All three of us looked up at him as though he lost it.

"As fah as da rest a da woild is concerned youh name is Rose."

"Rose," I repeated. "Did you just make that up?"

"Yeah, so dat's youh new name. anyone calls you Erin, give 'em a good soakin'."

I nodded.

For the next five minutes we went over my whole life story. I was glad. Even though I would have to be someone else I was still with Spot and the rest of Brooklyn.


	10. Part 10

Everyone sat inside the lodge house quietly that night. Spot sat beside me eyes focused on something miles away. None of the other boys wanted to distract his thought process.

Doc told me that a guy did that once and he was lucky to walk away with just a broken leg and a shiner.

The dress sat on me uncomfortably. It brought out my feminine figure that had been hidden for so long. Additionally, Spot had given me more concealing powder (for that blasted scar). He claims to have a connections to an actress- which is his source for everything he's been giving me for disguise.

Without a newsie hat to cover my hair, it fell a little past my shoulders, framing my face lightly. I couldn't believe I was ignoring my father's last wish.

Everyone knew now I had to find a new job, Brooklyn had no girl newsies, period.

Spot didn't want me to work in a factory because it was dangerous. Small secure jobs in shops were difficult for street rats like me to get. I had to make money; the boys barely had enough to support themselves.

All this thinking was making me so tired. I curled up on the worn down sofa and rested my head on Spot's shoulder. He didn't move so it must mean he was not upset by this.

"So what's the plan, Spot?"

I could see him brush his hair back agitatedly.

"I know a place wheah you could woik . . ." he began unsatisfied, "dere's dis guy who needs annuda person ta groom his horses. Hoity-toity guy, but you'll get paid. Do ya have experience wid animals?"

On the farm, I would often go riding Sonny, our horse, and I had my share of grooming the creature as well.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Okay, so you'll see him tomorrow. An' I'll check up on ya every once in a while ta make shuah youh okay."

I wanted to protest, that I could do this job without a babysitter, but Spot's word was final.

The boys seemed to decide it was bedtime and headed up the creaky stairs. I followed them up, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

I fell on my bed groaning.

"Ey, Er-Rose?" Duke called. I felt him sit by my waist. I lifted my head up a little to see his face.

"Hm?"

He took his hat off and wiped his forehead. "Well, er, I just wanna say dat, I'se sorry. About ev'rytin'."

"Me too," I sighed.

"I—" he paused uncertainly and then continued, "I neva realized how pretty ya were. I mean ya always looked fine but when youh dressed like a goil ya look really pretty."

I felt my face heat up, feeling uncomfortable with him sitting so close to me while saying this.

"Thanks," I whispered. Sleep was overriding everything else. Before I knew it, I was out like a light.

Spot woke me in an unusual way, this morning. I could hear a faint sound, and something was tickling my nose. My eyes opened slowly only to be greeted by two familiar blue eyes.

I gasped and sat up immediately, hoping to shove him off, he merely made room for me and started laughing.

"Da look on youh face!" he snickered. Other boys who witnessed the event silently chuckled.

My eyes narrowed to slits.

"That is _not_ funny." It only made him laugh harder. I couldn't get out of bed because he was sitting on my legs. "Alright Spot, _some_ of us have work to do, so if you don't mind GET OFF!"

He fluidly slid off my bed grasping the frame of the bunk bed laughing.

I went to the wash room to clean up and then came back ready to go. Spot gave an approving look and took my hand.

"Let's go, Rose."

* * *

My new job was very peaceful. My boss was a kind gentleman, who offered me a drink of lemonade and a fistful of candies as I worked. His horses, King, Draco, Minny, and Paris were gentle beasts who allowed me to wash and brush them as well as clean out their hooves with no fighting. I hooked them up to the carriages and was done. My job was shorter than Spot expected so when I finished I would follow him around as he sold.

Watching Spot sell newspapers was spellbinding. If his looks weren't enough, his words and voice won over many people. He was charming, and witty, and pleasant to be around as far as his consumers were concerned.

Spot caught me staring at him and I looked down, blushing. I hoped he'd let it go but I would never get that lucky. He strolled over, smirking.

"Seen anything interestin', Rose?" he's been adding my name into every sentence addressed to me. Probably to get it in his head, so he doesn't make a mistake.

"You're really good at selling," I offered, feeling annoyed that he was teasing me.

His smirk widened, "Best in da business!"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't keep a grin off my face.

"Can we go home?" I whined. I was feeling a bit anxious for some reason.

"Alright," he smiled, now warmly.

I took his hand automatically, feeling stupid. He probably thought I was being really girly. I tried to draw my hand back but he held it tight in his grip.

"Wouldn't want you to go running off, now, would we?" Spot smirked.

"Where would I go?" I asked mockingly.

"Well since we both finished early, how bout we head to da docks?"

I didn't answer but he already started towing me there, so I guess the question was rhetorical.

First, we just sat on the docks with our feet dangling over the edge. Neither of us felt like swimming.

"Rose," he started, but I interrupted.

"Where did that name come from?" I asked, "is it one of your old girlfriends, perhaps?"

His eye brows went up in surprise.

"No," he grinned, "it was me sista's name. She died a pneumonia when she was twelve."

I felt my heart stutter. He gave me his sister's name? I felt honored.

"I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry," I whispered. Though pride swelled in my chest, I couldn't help feeling bad. He lost family too.

"S'alright. At least I got to say goodbye," he spoke calmly. I began playing with the silver band on my wrist twisting it around as well at the string from Torrence. I was able to say goodbye too.

"So, when aw ya gonna tell me youh story, goily? What was wid da boy t'ing?" curiosity burned in his words.

"Well," I sighed, "it's a long story."

"I'se got time."

". . . and sad . . ."

"Wouldn't be da foist one I hoid."

I looked into the water concentrating on Spot's and my reflection. I stared into the water the entire time I told him my story. I was surprised that I was able to talk about the boat ride without choking on my words.

When I finished Spot sat there silently then blew out a breath of air loudly.

"Gee. That explains a lot."

I nodded my head a little. I bit my lip trying to get a hold of myself. I was seeing flashed of the boat again. My sickly brothers and father. Watching their eyes droop.

I think Spot thought that I was going to cry because he put an arm over my shoulder in a comforting manner. He definitely would not do this to the boy Erin.

I closed my eyes gently trying to wipe the awful images from my mind.

"I'se sorry, Rose," he whispered into my ear. I wanted to tell him I was fine, that I didn't need his apology; instead I just stared into the water, with his arm slung over me.

It felt good just sitting there with him quietly.

Once the sun started to set we made our way home. All the boys were laying around tired. It's been a long day.

I as tired myself. This whole week being Rose was not easy.

Little did I know things were about to get worse.

There was a gently knock on the door, almost unnoticeable. I went to open it but Spot stopped me. He pulled it open himself staring straight into the warm blue eyes of Christopher.

Once I saw him I ran inside hiding behind Duke, Le Maitre, and Flames. The quickly sat together close to conceal my body.

"'Ello, Christopher, how's it rollin'?" Spot asked nonchalantly.

Christopher smiled wickedly, "Not bad, Spot. I suppose ya know why I'm heah?"

Spot sighed quietly, "yeah. So waddaya want?"

"I believe you've been giving board an' bed to a young lady heah by da name Rose?"

Spot remained calm, but the other boys couldn't keep their cool as easily. Some scowled at the floor while others gave Christopher a daggers look.

"Maybe. She also might a left. What's she ta you anyways?" Spot asked, trying to make me sound unimportant. But Christopher must of known better.

"A goils a goil. I saw a pretty goil wid ya ova' dis past week Spot. Ya must a known I'd be spyin' a littul, just ta see if Erin made an appeahrance. So I'se decided dis was da next best t'ing."

Spot's knuckles turned white as he made a fist at his side.

"She ain't mine ta hand ova', Christopher," he hissed dangerously.

"Oh really, well I'd say udda wise. I'se been watchin' you two. She definitely is youhs, Conlon. So suck up, an' hand her ova."

Spot turned around violently ripped his hat off. He started pacing while attacking the poor cap.

"Why her? She ain't special. Can't ya find annuda goil?"

Christopher merely smirked. He knew he hit a soft spot, and this is exactly what he wants.

"I'd like her now, Spot."

Spot new it was a lost fight but he was ready to quit. I saw his face scrunch up in concentration.

I decided it was up to me. I stood up from my spot and came out.

"I'm right here," I announced in a calm voice. Christopher looked up half impressed half amused.

Spot looked up at me with an unreadable expression.

"All right, den," Christopher began, "I guess youh commin' wid me. Say goodbye."

I turned to the boys feeling my chest swell with pain and fear.

I was going to miss them. Before I could say anything all of the boys removed their hats together and lowered their heads. Spot did the same and, to my surprise, brought me into a strong embrace.

"_I'll be watching you._" He whispered only for me.

I nodded sadly and left his warm safe arms.

Christopher took hold of my hand and led me from my third family.


	11. part 11

Day Twelve with Christopher: Nothing bad has happened . . . then again, hardly anything at all happened. After leaving Spot, I was taken to a small apartment on the other side of Brooklyn, and ever since Christopher's always had one of his boys guarding me. They were only allowed to give me small portions of food and let me go to the bathroom but other than that they said nothing. To remain sane I kept a mental diary of everything.

The boy watching me at the moment (whose name is Ricky) was writing something in a small notebook. I sat in a chair watching for about an hour.

Boredom caused me to take a risk. I stood up ad walked over to Ricky.

"What are you doing?" I asked quietly. He snapped his head up and looked annoyed.

"I ain't doin' nuttin', just keep youh nosey head outta it or I'll mess up youh face!" It sounded a little defensive, like he was doing something he shouldn't. I was curious but didn't feel like pressing for details. I returned to my seat and began kicking the wall in a rhythm.

Kick. Kick. Kick. Kick.

I noticed him wince at every beat. After a while he demanded I stop.

"Can we go outside?" I groaned.

"NO!" he bellowed, rising from his seat gripping his notebook tightly. His dark brown eyes were flaring up and I could tell he was losing it.

The door squeaked open and Christopher and two of his boys stepped in. They were usually a silent group, Christopher hardly spoke to me. I was beginning to wonder what I was even doing there. He closed the door and pulled up a chair. The other boys went into the kitchen for food.

"Is my shift over?" Ricky asked irritably.

Christopher looked up lazily. "What? Oh, yes, I guess so."

Ricky walked past me glaring and I couldn't help but give him a bright sugary smile in return. My only fun in these days is annoying others. This was sad.

"Oy Christopher!" I called, getting his attention. "What am I supposed to do here? Redecorate?"

He smirked across the room.

"No one's stoppin' ya."

I glared. "What's the point of keeping me locked up, huh? Can you just shoot me and be over with it."

He seemed amused by this remark.

"What, getting a little cooped up?" he asked with mocking pity.

I narrowed my eyes, "well yes, being locked in an apartment with one of your thugs would make one feel a little confined."

I saw him pull out a fancy pocket watch.

He took his sweet time to look at it then looked back up at me. "I suppose I can take ya fo a walk tonight. Let's go."

He arose from his seat stretching out his hand for me to take. I stood up, ignoring the hand staring straight into his soft blue eyes.

With a nod he opened the door for me and we were out. The cool night breeze was the best feeling I've ever had. I sucked in a deep breath and let out a small smile when Christopher wasn't looking.

We started walking down a wide empty street. The gas lamps gave a comforting yellow glow, reflecting off the puddles on the cobblestone floor.

"So _Rose_," he started, "How'd ya get tangled wid a group like Conlon's?" His tone was mocking, which struck a nerve.

Behind his disinterested tone I knew that he was probably looking for information on Spot.

"I'm his sister," I replied. It's worth a try, I mean we're both Irish so it might work.

"Oh really? Because last I hoid Spot's sista' died ages ago. And dat was da only family he knew."

I looked at him surprised. "How did you—"

"How did I know? Geez, Rose, if dat's youh name, Spot an' I go way back, befoah even you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Now you're lying." I accused.

He gave a cold laugh. "Oh am I? Spot hasn't told ya has he. We worked together when we were young. Back before I was this way. Spot would use his smooth talking to distract dem hoity-toities an' I would snatch dere wallets. Sometimes someone found our secret hideout, dat's when I would have to "deal" with people."

I concealed my own dismay with a glare.

"An, I knew his sister. Only reason he really worked wid me was ta feed her. When she died Spot left."

There was a scraping sound behind us. We both turned and saw a stray cat run across the street. Christopher faced me again. "So what's youh real story?"

I sighed, "I'm an immigrant. Spot took me in because I asked for help."

"Youh leaving out information. Why'd he take you in?"

I racked my brain for something that sounded Spot like, "I promised to give half of me wages to him and clean the lodge house."

Christopher nodded his head slightly, "Did ya come heah wid any siblings? A bruddah maybe?"

I instantly thought of the boat ride but wiped it out of my mind. "My brothers died on the voyage."

Christopher paused, "ya know you look a lot like one a Spot's boys who ran off," he started, "Only he had a huge scah on his eye." He looked over at my eye with care. "I'se tought ya might know him, his name was Erin."

I looked Christopher straight in the face.

"Never heard of him."

Christopher rubbed the back of his neck, "interesting," he commented. "Well, we ought to get back. Wouldn't want to worry me boys." As if they had anything to worry about.

I scowled down into a puddle, and almost gasped. I saw the reflection of someone looking down at me from a building top. The most visible part of the figure was bright red lines going down it's chest.

It took all my will power to not look up. I followed Christopher back to his place reluctantly.

"Are you ever going to tell me why I'm here?" I called.

He turned to face me with a mysterious grin.

"Why would I tell- when it's so much more fun to watch Spot and you struggle ta figure it out?"

I could imagine Spot on top of the building right now cursing silently.

I stopped walking. I had both boys here right now. I needed to do something about this before I was locked away forever again!

So being the sensible non-impulsive girl I was . . . I ran for it. My bare feet slapped the cobblestone while Christopher's leather boots followed. I made mad turns slipping and sliding on the poorly lit street. Funny- this was the second time I was being chased in Brooklyn.

What does this say about my life?

Finally, I made a fatal mistake of trying to go down two alleys at once. My head went towards the right but my feet slid to the left. I slammed on the ground hitting my head on something sharp.

I felt warm blood flowing.

Water from the ground hit me in the face.

Christopher was looming over me. I wasn't going down without a fight.

I picked up the sharp object that had sliced the side of my head-a dull blade- probably from a street boy who dropped it by mistake. I held it out towards Christopher's chest.

He looked from the knife to me- eyebrows raised as if to say 'really?' I could see the pity on his face.

"Don't kid yerself, Rose." His tone was gentle like an adult talking down to a child: 'you don't know what you're doing'.

"You've kept me alive this whole time!" I spoke, breathing heavily, "So you obviously had a purpose for me. In that case . . ." I turned the blade towards my own chest. "Let me go, or I'll kill myself."

I dared to look over Christopher's shoulder on top of a building. A dark figure was leaning forward- hunched over, ready too attack. Not part of the plan.

Christopher leaned forward, so I shoved the knife closer.

He drew back, "I could have been planning on killing you tonight? Did you think of that?"

The figure on the building leapt down with catlike skill and melted in the shadows behind the wall several feet away from us. _Spot, get away from here- you idiot!_

"Well, I might as well of been dead since I started living with you! I can't stay trapped in there forever! Just let me go! I'll pay you!"

He chuckled softly, "you think for a guy like me it's awl about money, huh?" He shook his head looking down and then back up at me. "Well youh wrong."

I was like the image of defeat- soaking wet in a tattered dress on the cold ground.

"Youh bleeding." Smoothly, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped off the blood. I cringed at his touch but eventually just let him work. His eyes wandered to my face.

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Well, I'se coitanly ain't killin' you anytime soon."

I cocked my head and narrowed my eyes, "Why?" His curled index finger gently lifted my face, which he examined scrupulously.

"Because, you'se got a lovely face with a legendary blemish."

_THE WATER!_ I thought. The makeup washed off. He can see the scar. Suddenly I was lifted by my arm. "I had a feeling. . . but now . . . now I know. Spot is always predictable."

I hissed as he pulled me closer.

We walked past Spot's wall. I quickly turned my head. I was sitting in the shadow undetectable if no one knew he was there. 'Stay' I mouthed silently, turning back quickly. The last thing I needed was for him to jump out and get killed.

Things are about to get a lot worse.

A body flew across the boards of the dock and flung itself into the icy waters.

Spot's blood was on fire.

The scene was still burned in his memory. He could have touched Erin- she was so close.

And Christopher knew who she was. He knew she was Erin and he touched her! Spot felt something in him screaming every time Christopher touched her. This feeling was strange and new to him.

Spot had figured now Christopher would use Erin as one of his henchmen, killing off innocent people, becoming the very person Spot worked so hard not to be. Or maybe he'd use her for his revenge? The very revenge he spoke of nine years ago? The water was freezing quickly cooling Spot off. He needed a plan.

An elaborate plan.

He was going to do a lot of pacing tonight.

I was in a pickle.

Christopher brought me back- more like dragged me back- to his apartment. His boys were mostly asleep by now so no one really noticed us enter. The two of us entered Christopher's room which was locked once the door closed.

I glared with my arms crossed. I was so angry with Christopher for learning about my secret the very night I hoped to escape.

"So you're Erin?"

No response.

"_The Erin?_"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I snarled.

I drew a line down my scar using his finger. "You cut your face after falling off the Brooklyn bridge."

I narrowed my eyes, "How'd you-"

Before I could continue he yanked at my collar, pulling it down. "Hey!" I snapped.

He tugged it low enough to reveal my old wound from when I was shot. The skin grew over the bullet hole and bullet but it was still and angry red-violet color.

"You were shot in the chest by a Bronx leadah an lived. You've neva lost a fight. Youh the only one Spot listens to . . . !"

I glared, "Where are you getting this information?"

He rolled his eyes, "Everyone know's 'bout ya Erin- youh a legend!

"Well, that's funny. I've never heard about this until now."

He rolled his eyes impatiently, "It doesn't mattah if you know or don't. What mattahs is dat I got what I wanted!"

"Yippee," I said with zero enthusiasm.

He smiled coolly at me.

I cleared my throat. "Ah, so perhaps I ought to go?" I was about to stand up and bolt for the door.

"I don't think so," he spoke in a velvety voice. "Who's allies with Conlon? Who aw his enemies?"

I snorted, "Yeah sure. I'm as sure to tell you as Spot is."

"Erin I ain't asking you," his voice now was a bit tense. Suddenly he grabbed me by the shoulders spun me around, with one arm wrapped around me. I could have pulled away but then came the clicking sound of a pocket knife. I became suddenly aware of a sharp metal blade resting on my throat.

"You bettah staht singin' like a canary if you value youh life."

"Go ahead, Christopher. Kill me. I'm sure it isn't your first time." I couldn't see him, but I could sense he was hesitating.

"You'd die for dat boy?"

Instead of nodding (since that would kill me) I answered "yes".

"Then, if ya don't tell me I'll kill Spot."

"Well, if you can kill him now then why do you need this information?"

I could tell I caught him.

"Killin' Spot doesn't do a thing," his voice was wary, like he wasn't sure he wanted to tell me this. "He's so full of himself and powerful. I wanna crush his spirit and ego. Make him feel like da nothin' he is. Like da nobody he was."

"Ah," I spoke gently, "So, it's personal." Understanding was in my voice.

"Yes," he replied harshly. This time his mouth was near my ear and I could feel his breath blow against my skin.

It was then that I realized I was involved in an old rivalry of two boys. When I first joined Spot I had no idea what I brought myself into. My family wanted me to find a nice job in America and live happily. I admit I had both things with Spot's borough, but how long will it last. How many more grudges are held against him? How many people want him and his friends dead?

More importantly: how did I feel about Spot? So much has happened between us that I never had time to really think about this question.

"I do know one thing," Christopher mused to himself. "Spot will risk anything for ya."

I stiffened.

"Yeah, I saw him tonight. I had too much on my mind ta deal with the buggah, but I saw 'im . . . hmm."

The knife pulled away from my throat. I took the opportunity to pull away and turn. Christopher had a serious expression on, like Spot does when he's about to come up with a brilliant plan.

"No! No! No! No plotting!" I uttered uneasily.

No response.

I swore in my own language and crossed my arms. I was seriously displeased.

The next morning was the pinnacle of my distress. Not only was I forced to wake up early in the morning after virtually zero sleep, but Christopher held my hand while walking down the street the way couples do with the fingers laced together.

Though from the outside we appeared alone I could see from the corner of my eye shadows jumping from the tops of buildings and figures lurking behind walls. All or Christopher's little gang was following.

Christopher truly was a marvelous actor. He walked around Brooklyn with me in tow, looking at window displays, admiring small stands on the street offering candle sticks, jewelry, and fine china.

"Are you hungry?" he asked looking at me with true concern. I wasn't buying this for a second.

"I've lost my appetite," I sniffed. I was actually famished, but I didn't want to play into his hands even if it meant losing out on a free meal.

Unfortunately, my stomach has no sense of timing and grumbled loudly. I felt my face fall into a grimace while watching Christopher's eyes narrow and a small smirk appear on his lips. He smoothly reached for an apple and paid the person at the stand. I was considering refusing the food but felt that was too childish. I took it from his hand and took a defeated bite.

"You might as well enjoy yourself, Erin," he spoke in a calm voice. "My plan isn't going to take effect until later."

I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and ignore him.

He sighed and shook his head.

By two o'clock I felt drained- we had been walking all day without stop.

"How long are we going to walk around?" I demanded. I couldn't stand watching him slowly turn with that stupid grin on his face. "What? Tired?" he asked mockingly.

"Bored!" I answered through gritted teeth.

"Well, were about to make our final stop for the day. Come along."

We moved quickly now heading through familiar streets. Hang on . . .

We were on our way to the docks. I could see them growing larger as we came closer. This time, when I looked at Christopher with a questioning glance he did not look back.

We came on to Spot's favorite dock with his little "throne".

Christopher climbed on top of the crates pulling me up with him. Finally, he sat on Spot's seat. Christopher's boys slowly came onto the docks, surrounding us.

"What are you planning?" I asked.

"You'll see- or actually you won't see . . ." Christopher pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and tried to put it on my face. I pulled back quickly, but he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me back. "Don't even try, Erin," He hissed. Once I was blindfolded I felt weak. I couldn't stand not being able to see.

I suddenly felt Christopher sit up straighter like he was excited.

"Well, well, well, Spot. I see you came alone . . . as usual." I faced the direction I thought Spot was in, Christopher's hand gripped mine tighter. A warning and a threat: Stay back!

"Christopher I know what ya want. Just do it, but leave Erin outta it!"

"_Spoooot_," Christopher droned in a voice full of superiority. "That would ruin all my fun!"

I listened for Spot's reply but only heard Christopher say, "uh-uh-uh, Spot! Now we don't want violence between me boys and you, do we? Let's just talk dis through. I want you dead and you want Erin. So how 'bout dis: I get ta spill youh blood and I set Erin free?"

"And how do I know you'll keep your word?" Spot's voice was strong and full of anger.

"Well, what use is she to me after I kill you?" There was a pause then he continued, "Oh! Spot! Deah me, you have some dark thoughts runnin' through youh head!" He chuckled wickedly and shifted his hand from my fingers to around my waist. "I promise ta let her go."

"You can't use her . . . like you used me!" Spot's voice was pleading now- very out of character.

"A'course I would neva'!"

After a long pause I finally heard: "Deal."

I wanted to yell out "no!" or "don't do it!" but Spot wouldn't like that. It was his choice and I knew he would prefer to die with honor and having his friend trust in him, even if his survival was hopeless.

Christopher came down and two of his guys took a hold of my arms in his absence.

I won't describe what I heard because it was awful.

By the time I was ready to pass out, I felt someone grab me from behind and pull me off of my crate. Before I could protest a hand clamped over my mouth. I used my elbow as a weapon knocking the air out of my attacker but he was only stunned and dragged me down the planks until they ran out. The shock of the water made my heart accelerate. I was in survival mode: I needed to take out whoever this was and get back on the dock. I quickly removed my blindfold wincing in the light. I was surprised to a familiar face before me.

"Doc!"

"Hey sweetheart, ya pack one powaful punch dere," he weezed. I felt regret and relief wash away my adrenaline rush. I swam up to my old friend and hugged him.

"How'd you—"

"Spot's plan. Ya didn't think he would actually die, did ya?"

"But Christopher's boys—!"

"Taken cahre of, thanks ta Spencer's lot an' 'Hattan."

"WHAT?" I sputtered.

"Spot got everyone united against Christopher ta save you!"

"Holy—"

"Come on! We're gonna miss awl da action!" We swam back to the dock and climbed up. The scene before me was utter chaos. Spencer's, Spot's, and Jack's boys fought together against Christopher's minions.

It was brilliant. Most of the bad guys were down. Spot and Christopher were locked in battle.

It seemed all the fighting was practically over, though. Spot's plan was foolproof. I could hear him talking to Christopher between punches.

"C'mon Chris, y'know ya lost. Just end it!"

"Oh, I'll end it Spot!" He threw another punch catching Spot in the eye.

Spot was running low on energy- I could tell.

"Spot!" I called. His head swerved in my direction. "Remember our first fight!"

Understanding dawned on his face and he changed his stance. He stood taller, fists drawn protectively up to his face. He began stepping aside from the blows walking back from Christopher.

The same thing Spot had done to me.

There was a satisfying "SPLOOSH!" when Christopher fell. Spot's final words said it all.

"Nobody messes with Spot Conlon."

I looked up at my bruised friends. The Manhattan kids gawked at me- mostly Kid Blink. I could tell what was running through his head- "I shared a bed with a girl and didn't know!"

Jack and the other's seemed equally stunned.

Spencer looked mildly amused. After a discussion with him I learned he secretly thought there was something feminine about me. I wasn't sure if that was an insult or not. I guess my expression after he said that was funny because he chuckled and hugged me.

"Youh a littul too young for 'er, Spenc." I heard Spot say from behind. I turned around to see the boy standing there. His cool blue eyes were focused on me.

Spencer reluctantly let go of me.

"Well youh a littul too stupid fo' 'er!"

Normally Spot would pummel someone for saying that or at least throw a glare, but his eyes focused on me. He came up and hugged me roughly.

Squeezing my breath out.

I didn't want to ruin the moment so I just rested my chin on his shoulder and let him get this "cuddly-hugging-thing" out of his system.

Finally I gave up. "Can't breathe, Spot," I informed. He laughed and set me down.

He turned to the crowd, "Thank you all for saving Erin!"

Everyone cheered and whistled. It was a long night full of questions and whatnot. Manhattan had a chance to talk to me. They were satisfied to hear that I was happy and treated well in Brooklyn.

Kid Blink even stepped up and apologized for being a jerk.

Eventually I was alone with Brooklyn. The boys were calming down now some were already in bed.

There was still selling to do tomorrow.

I decided I better get some rest as well. I climbed the old creaky stairs feeling a sense of security.

As I reached for the door to my room, a familiar black cane swooped down, gently swatting my hand away.

I turned and saw Spot's infamous smirk. Some things never change, I suppose.

"Ya wanna tawk fo' a second?"

For Spot, this was never a question. It was an order.

"Sure."

We walked to his room side by side. He closed the door and walked to the bed. "Listen," he began while sitting down, "When I foist took you in, I didn't realize how much trouble you were."

Great, so I'm trouble.

"And if I had any idea how many pickles you'd put me in, I'd 'a neva taken ya in."

What, so are you kicking me out? I was wondering where exactly this speech was going.

"But I know ya a lot betta now. Y'know, youh probably da on'y goil I've said dat to."

"Spot where is this going?" I asked impatiently. If he was kicking me out for being trouble or a girl, fine. Just do it all ready!

"Sit down!" he snapped agitatedly, "I'se tryin' ta tell ya something!"

I sat on the edge of the bed warily.

"Listen, Erin," he spoke clearly with a strong voice, "We've been through a lot togedda. An I realized dat I like ya a lot. An' I wanna know if ya feel da same way." His eyes seemed to be digging through my own, trying to find an answer to his question.

"Well Spot, considering all the danger we've been through, I've never had time to think about that."

His face showed some surprise to this answer and he started laughing.

Frankly, I couldn't see what was so funny.

He leaned forward, "I know a way to find out," he whispered in my ear. He pulled me close to him and gently placed his lips on mine. It was the strangest sensation I have ever felt. But I liked it. My entire body was awakened. Ever part of my skin he touched was left with an electric feeling. Our lips fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.

I wanted this moment to last forever.

Spot reluctantly pulled back, his eyes still burning for an answer. "Well?"

This time, I leaned forward putting my lips close to his ear.

"I love you."

His face turned towards mine. His lips caught mine while his hands entwined around my waist. I felt my own hands wrap themselves around his neck.

I pulled back reluctantly, seeing confusion run across his face. "If I don't go back to my room the boys are going to wonder what's going on." I explained.

He snorted, "Let dem wonder."

"I just don't want them to walk in hear and interrupt. We'll continue this later, okay?"

He nodded his understanding, though I could tell he didn't agree.

I walked to my room silently. Everyone else was asleep or still talking downstairs.

I fell asleep dreaming of Spot.

I was awakened by a terrible sound. It sounded like a crash.

It came from Spot's room.

I ran with the other boys to see what happened. When I tried the door it was locked. I started banging on it.

"SPOT!" I screamed.

I leaned against the wood and heard heavy breathing.

I turned to the boys behind me, "take this door down!"

They nodded and immediately started slamming their bodies against it. I waited anxiously. They managed to crack the middle leaving a wide enough whole for someone small to crawl through.

I easily slid through it and peered around the room.

I was surprised to see two figures: one sitting up on the floor and the other lying sprawled on the ground.

Through the dim light, I could see the one sitting up was Spot.

He seemed fine but I realized he was clutching his chest.

There was blood pouring from him.

"Spot what happened?"

"The little coward came in when no one was lookin'and tried ta kill me in my sleep." I looked at the other figure and saw it was Christopher. There was a knife in his back.

Oh, the irony.

I could hear the other boys climbing in and talking quickly.

"Spot," I whispered in a shaky voice, "we're going to get you help, ok?"

"Don't kid yerself, Erin," his eyes widened and he started coughing- blood sprayed onto his shirt. "Scuse me," he said jokingly his voice a bit shaky.

Spot's voice was never shaky.

"Erin, you can't help me anymore. I'm dying."

My head felt light, I wasn't processing what he was saying. He said 'dying', what does he mean? He can't die. He's right hear in front of me talking. He isn't going to die. I WON'T LET HIM DIE!

"Spot," my voice was weak but still had an aggressive tone, "you're not going to die!"

"Erin."

I turned and saw the boys behind me, caps off looking at the floor. Doc was right behind me looking at me with pity. "Erin, he's not gonna make it. Dere's nuttin you can do."

I glared at him.

"We aren't giving up until we try!" I felt Spot's cold hand touch my cheek. I turn eagerly to see if he was better.

He was getting paler. It was just like on the ship.

"Erin, I need you to be strong . . . for me." Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes.

"Aw you cryin?"

"No!" I snapped, "I'm sweating through my eyes!"

He laughed very quietly, I could barely hear it.

His hand weakly reached around his neck and pulled at the cord that held his key.

He yanked it off and held it up to me. "Youh da new leadah a Brooklyn. Da Queen, eh?"

He smiled warmly at me.

I didn't reach for the key.

"Don't die," I demanded.

"Erin, I would do anything for ya but I can't stop dis."

I wiped at my tears and took the key from him. I bent down, gently cradling his head. I kissed him deeply feeling his lips lose their warmth.

When I pulled back he sighed. His eyes half closed.

"I love you," he breathed.

"I love you too, Spot."

There was no real indication of what happened next but I knew. All the boys knew.

Spot Conlon was dead.

Everyone stood on the docks that day looking down into the waters. Spot was probably at the bottom resting in a crate from the dock. He would have liked that. To be buried in the sea.

I felt empty- like half of me was torn out and spilled into the water.

The boys were wary around me. All I did was give simple orders about burying Spot all until now.

We simply threw Christopher's body in an alley dumpster.

I held onto the key the spot had given me. For Spot I would be strong. I would be the leader he was.

Though, maybe a little less arrogant.

A short boy stood tall and proud between Flames and Duke. He appeared irked as though he had better things to do then stand on a smelly dock with a bunch of scary Brooklyn Newsies. His brown hair was cut short and neat but you couldn't tell from the two nights of sleeping on the street. His clothes were in the same condition, but his green eyes flashed our brightly against the unkempt look he was bearing.

The boy craned his neck, wincing from the sun's brightness. He could see a silhouette of a slim boy sitting atop the crates. The silhouette smoothly slide down a few feet in front him.

He was dressed a bit boldly wearing bright red suspenders with a faded blue button down shirt. He actually left the first few buttons undone, revealing a very dirty undershirt, and a small key hanging by a string around his neck. In addition to this accessory, he had a string wrapped around his wrist and metal band.

He had no shoes but he did have a scepter of all things hanging the belt loop of his pants.

The strangest thing about this boy was his face. A cruel scar stretched down from his eye to below his cheek bone but besides that he was very handsome. He also had this look in his eyes, as if he had seen more than a boy his age should see.

As if he knew more than he should know. It was a wise look, but also a dangerous one.

"Who are you?" The short boy asked trying to summon up all his courage.

"I should be asking you the same question," replied the mysterious boy who appeared to be leader. The first boy recognized he had an Irish accent and hoped this similarity would give him leverage.

"Me name's Darcy."

"You're clearly an immigrant." He merely said this as a state of fact.

"Is that a problem?" Darcy snapped defensively.

"Let's watch that tone, a yours. You don't want to start a fight."

"What if I _do_?"

"I'm not a man to mess with."

Darcy's face turned red with anger. He did not like being challenged. Besides, this guy was about the same height as him. He could take him.

Darcy threw a punch at his nose which suddenly wasn't there. He felt something swipe behind his heels knocking him to the wooden ground.

"Now, I don't want to hurt you so I'm just going to lay down the rules."

Darcy stood up and glared.

"Rule number one: no one, and I mean no one steals from a Brooklyn newsie."

"How'd you kn—"

"Is rule number one clear?"

He nodded stiffly.

"Good. Number two: Everyone follows my orders. Anyone who breaks rule number two get a personal soaking."

The boy was clearly trying to contain his increasing anger.

"And finally rule number three: trust your friends."

"Wha—" now the boy was confused. "What's that supposed to mean? I don't have any friends here!"

The boy analyzed him carefully with sharp light brown eyes making Darcy feel uncomfortable.

"You've probably been in New York for a couple 'a days, couldn't find work, so you became a thief. You got a family, kid?"

The boy was stunned by how this stranger could know so much from a glance and wondered if he had a similar past.

"Uhh, my little brother Riley."

A smile spread on the boys face. "Well how'd you boys like to be newsies?"

A flash of understanding ran across the boys face. "Yes! Yes, we'd like that very much . . ."

"Erin. Erin Conlon." The boy took a ridiculously fancy bow taking off his hat. Reddish brown hair with uneven ends fell to his jaw bone. When he stood up straight again, Darcy noticed something about Erin.

"You—! You look like a . . . a—"

"A girl?" she supplied, smirking.

"But, I thought—"

"Rule number three is trust your friends. Now that we're friends, I trust you."

The boy grinned sheepishly. "Thanks!"

"Go get your brother and we'll all head to our place."

Without another word, Darcy raced off the docks with a smile on his face.

Erin took in a deep breath through her nostrils, breathing in the smelly salty water aroma of the docks. She opened her eyes and stared into the waters.

If you looked very carefully into her eyes they almost seemed to be a sharp grey-blue.


End file.
